


Sweetest Tongue Has Sharpest Tooth

by Gwennefer



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assault, Attempted Kidnapping, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Clothed Sex, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Dark, Dirty Talk, Dissociation, Dom!Kylo Ren, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Face Slapping, Forced Orgasm, Hair-pulling, I'm basically going to pretend everything after TFA didn't happen thanks, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Light BDSM, Light Sadism, Manhandling, Masochism, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn With Plot, Power Play, Reader can Fight, Reader-Insert, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex in later chapters, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Spanking, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Will add more tags as I go, kind of, reader has ptsd, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwennefer/pseuds/Gwennefer
Summary: Kylo Ren scares the shit out of you and all you want is to be around him as little as possible. That doesn't work out very well for you.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 100
Kudos: 320





	1. Never Trust a Stranger Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome, thanks for stopping by.
> 
> I don't even know what to say about this except that I'm very upset with the way the trilogy went so I'm going to write this and pretend it didn't happen :) So if my plot's don't line up with the movie plots, that is why.
> 
> *WARNING* There's a death within the first couple hundred words of this, so if that's going to bother you maybe don't read this. I also feel like starting with a death is a really good indicator for the tone of the rest of this fic, just saying. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And if you do please feel free to leave some feedback, I'd appreciate it!

You stand beside your brother along with several other officers, the nervous tension in the room thick enough to almost be suffocating. General Hux stands before you all, looking pinched and aggravatingly smug about something. Commander Kylo Ren looms over his shoulder, an intimidating hulking mass of black robes topped off with that dehumanizing helmet. 

Your brother speaks of Kylo Ren like the man is a fallen angel, the greatest thing to ever have graced the galaxy and he can’t believe his luck he gets to exist in the same universe as the almighty Commander. But you’ve also heard the way others talk about him, about his ferocity, and his fury. The way people both cower away from him in fear, yet sneer behind his back at the chaos and destruction he’s known to leave behind in the wake of his outbursts. 

Now he stands there, hands curled in fists resting at his side, his gaze trained somewhere forward, almost looking like a statue. 

As far as you know, no one knows why you’re all here. All you’ve managed to deduce is you’re all intelligence officers and this meeting could be either a really good or really bad thing.

You have a strong feeling it’s the latter. 

“As you all know, sniffing out the Resistance and putting an end to them has been our top priority,” Hux finally speaks, his voice cutting through the heavy air like a knife. “Most of you have served your purpose, but we have received some information that has led us to believe we have a mole amongst us.”

Immediately your blood runs cold, and you can feel the collective halting of breath. Even knowing you’re not guilty doesn’t ease your anxiety. There’s nothing stopping them from removing all of you. It would be inconvenient to retrain and replace all of you, but not impossible.

“We must handle this matter swiftly, and efficiently, so your compliance is required,” Hux states, mouth curling into a barely there but nauseatingly pleased smirk. “You are being given a chance to turn yourself in of your own will, before we must start,  _ investigations _ .” 

He practically purrs the last word and it makes you shudder. You don’t even want to begin to imagine their  _ investigation _ tactics. 

There is a long stretch of silence, punctuated by stuttered and rapid breathing. The man next to you has a single bead of sweat roll down along his hairline. 

You swear you can hear his heart beating.

“No one?” Hux's smirk is gone, those sharp eyes now filled with barely contained rage. “Let us begin then.”

The general turns to Kylo Ren, who on cue steps forward. He’s like a looming shadow the way he moves, and you swear his footsteps make the ground shake. 

Or maybe that’s just your heart.

“You’re being given one more chance,” his voice is distorted by his vocoder, rumbling and enough to make you feel a little weak in the knees. 

Another wave of silence and you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitability of interrogation.

“I believe I know who it is,” one of the officers gasps the words like he had just been held underwater. “O-one of my analysts, t-the information he gives me sometimes, it’s questionable.”

“The name,” Ren demands.

Within seconds of the name being revealed Hux has Stormtrooper’s dispatched to apprehend the man, the Lieutenant before Ren trembles. 

“Explain to me why you allowed  _ questionable  _ information to be passed on to me,” Ren nearly barks the word and it makes you jump.

“F-f-forgive me Commander, I h-hadn’t meant harm. It was a mistake,” the Lieutenant implores, his eyes nearly bulging from his head.

“A mistake that will not be made again,” Ren states.

Then you feel it, like static or a change of atmosphere, something buzzing across your skin that makes the hair on your arms stand on end, and your ears ring, and your head go fuzzy as you fight with yourself for a moment to keep your eyes in focus with the incessant pressure building inside your head. 

The Lieutenant’s jaw drops, eyes somehow bulging farther, his face going red as his hands fly to his throat. He coughs, sputters, clawing at his own throat as if there were a hand wrapped around it. His face slowly begins to go purple, the whites of his eyes slowly turning more red and it makes you feel sick but you can’t look away. Kylo Ren stands impassive before him, watching the man struggle against seemingly thin air until he stops, his body falling lip at the Commander’s feet. His face is blue, his eyes bloodshot and still just as wide, as though he’s shocked even in death. 

Your knees nearly buckle as the tension in the air releases, the pressure and buzzing in your head suddenly gone and you swallow back the bile that climbs up your throat.

Ren’s head turns, gaze landing on you and your entire body locks up, you swear even your heart stops beating as your throat squeezes itself shut. You can’t see his eyes through his helmet but you can feel them boring into you, turning your bone to steel and your muscle to stone. Your blood feels like ice beneath your skin and you wonder if he is in fact turning you into some kind of statue.

Then he turns away, releasing you from his gaze and you take in a halting breath, barely managing to keep yourself upright.

“You all will report directly to me from now on,” his voice roars through the vocoder, his rage carrying through the distortion. “I will tolerate no more  _ mistakes _ .” 

He spits the word before turning on his heel and storming from the room, disappearing in a flutter of black fabric.

“You heard your Commander, you’re dismissed,” Hux’s smirk is back as he steps aside to let you pass.

You don’t remember choosing to leave the room, don’t remember telling your body to move, you don’t even realize you are moving until you glance over your shoulder in time to watch a Stormtrooper lift the Lieutenant’s lifeless body off the floor. 

Your entire body trembles, your chest aches and sweat drips down your back as though you had just run miles. Your feet feel heavy and all you want to do is drop onto the ground and not move for at least a few hours. Your brother has different ideas, Alex tugging on your arm before you can slow to a halt.

“What an honor huh? To be able to report directly to the Commander himself. I mean, we get to actually talk to him!” 

You’re absolutely going to be sick. You can’t get the image of that man’s blue face and bloodshot eyes out of your head, the look of shock and terror on his face, it’s burned into the back of your eyelids.

And Alex is still so far up Kylo Ren’s ass he can’t tell up from down, as though you hadn’t all just watched Ren kill a man without even lifting a finger. 

“We just watched someone die, that doesn’t bother you at all?” You whisper, not sure who you’re afraid of overhearing you, but not wanting to be heard none-the-less.

“He’s a traitor to the First Order, he put our cause, men, and Commander Ren’s life at risk. He deserved it,” he answers simply, as if it is the only possible solution that exists and your head spins.

“I’m going to go get lunch, want to come?” Alex asks, settling a palm on your shoulder and if you weren’t so exhausted you’d shrug it off.

“No, I think I’m going to lay down,” you pull away from him, not waiting for his response before lowering your head and moving towards your room as fast as your heavy limbs will carry you. 

⇼

You force yourself forward against your better judgement, everything in you screaming to turn and run the other way. Your hands shake so you keep them pressed to your sides and hope no one notices the way your shoulders tremble. The hallway seems endless yet fills you with a sense of claustrophobia at the same time. Your vision tunnels on the door at the end.

The door is before you far sooner than you would like it to be and a claminess spreads over the back of your neck as you clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

You take a deep breath, attempting to steel yourself as much as possible before raising a sweating hand to knock.

“Enter,” Kylo Ren’s sharp command sends a jolt through you, rattling you within your frame before you hurriedly push the door open and step inside.

You announce yourself, your name, rank, division you oversee, your throat growing tighter and voice more hoarse as you try to keep it from trembling. 

“Are you unwell Captain?” Ren asks, his tone cold and uncaring and you try not to flinch.

“No sir, I’m fine sir,” you assure him, keeping your eyes forward so you don’t have to look directly at him. 

He considers you for a moment, the silence heavy against your skin and you feel like you just might crumple under the pressure of it. 

Images of the Lieutenant flash through your mind, of his blotchy blue face and bloodshot eyes, of how unfazed and unhesitant Ren had been to take that man's life. Of how he had done it as easy as breathing. Your head goes light and you blink the black spots away that dance across your vision. 

“Then report,” he snaps, and it’s like his words release his hold on you, chest expanding as you're finally able to take a full breath. 

“Sir, my analysts have found and reported increased activity on Tatooine, as well as irregular landing and take off patterns. We have nothing concrete enough to prove there is Resistance activity, but we will be working closely with Signals and Geospatial to get more information,” he slowly circles you as you speak, your confidence dwindling to nothing but ash by the time he comes to a stop directly in front of you. 

Again he says nothing and you wish you could see his face, at least know where his eyes are so you didn’t feel like such an insect under a microscope. It takes everything in you not to squirm, keeping your eyes level with his chest. 

He fills your line of vision, the empty conference room disappearing and leaving nothing but his broad, black clad chest and shoulders in sight. You can just see the bottom of his helmet in your periphery and you remember the way you had felt when he looked at you that day, like he was freezing you from the inside out and you barely contain a shudder. 

“You were special tactics before,” it’s not a question, and despite it being the softest you’ve ever heard him speak the words still make you twitch. “Why did you switch to operations?”

“A-an injury sir, in the field,” your hand reaches up, resting over your left shoulder before you can even think to stop it, phantom pain tingling down into your fingertips at the memory. “It was decided I would be of better use to the Order in intelligence, so my training and service would not be put to waste.” 

“You must have been very impressive to be made a Captain so young,” his tone is completely flat, but you have the overwhelming feeling he’s taunting you, trying to make you feel small and patronized. “A shame about your … injury.”

The saliva in the back of your throat turns to tar as you try to swallow, embarrassment burning up your neck and into your face as you press your fingernails into your palms. 

“Thank you, sir,” you manage to grit out, and you hate the way your voice sounds in your own ears. 

He tilts his head to the side as he looks you over again before sharply turning away, folding his hands behind his back.

“Dismissed.”

“Sir,” you bow slightly even though he can’t see the gesture and try not to exit the room too quickly.

Though once the door closes behind you, you all but sprint down the hallway and away from Kylo Ren. 

However, once your fear dissipates you're left with an overwhelming sense of annoyance, and anger. Who the  _ hell _ does he think he is, to bring up your failings as a special tactics officer, and then to use it as a way to mock you. What had you done to him to make him feel like he needed to make you miserable? Like he needed to watch you squirm? 

But maybe that’s just how he is, maybe he gets off on making people feel like shit.

Fucking prick.

You huff, dropping into your desk chair, barely remembering the walk you had just made back to your office. 

“It went that bad huh?” You lift your head, immediately forcing your expression to soften upon hearing your Major’s voice.

He leans against your doorframe, looking apologetic and you’re not sure why but you wish he wouldn’t. 

You don’t need his pity.

“It went as well as it could have, I suppose, sir,” you sigh, trying to straighten yourself out and find a little bit more composure.

“Was he upset about our lack of information?” He sits in the chair across from you and you blink at him.

You had been so frazzled and distracted by the way the conversation had gone, you hadn’t even realized that Ren had in no way actually responded to or acknowledged your report. There’s a sudden sharp pressure over your right eye that you try to ignore.

“No, sir. He actually … didn’t say anything about it,” you admit, watching the man’s brows shoot up in surprise. 

He’s young for his rank as well, if you had to guess he’s maybe in his late 20’s. He’s on the slightly shorter side, though broad and muscular, and he’s sported his brunette buzzcut for as long as you’ve known him. But his soft hazel eyes and the fading freckles across his nose give him an endearing boyishness as well. 

You’re thankful to have him as your commanding officer, especially now that you’re aware of alternatives. 

“Well, that’s odd,” he muses, brows furrowing as he looks you over. “What did you talk about then?”

You shift, turning your gaze to the blank datapad on your desk. Shame washes back over you, a lump forming in your throat that you fight to swallow back down.

“He asked me about my previous job in special tactics,” your hand creeps back up to your shoulder, pressing your fingers into the scar tissue you swear you can feel even through the fabric of your uniform. “That was the extent of our conversation, sir.”

“I see,” his expression softens as his eyes follow the movement of your hand. “Tell you what, maybe we can alternate, I’ll report one week, you the next. Just to take some of the weight off you.”

“That would-” You take a deep breath trying not to come across as too eager. “I would appreciate that, sir.” 

“Sure thing,” he winks at you before standing, calling teasingly over his shoulder as he leaves. “Get your lazy ass back to work Captain!” 

⇼

“What’s going on up there?” Alex taps your forehead with the end of his fork and you swat it away, blinking up at him.

“Nothing important,” you sigh, watching him bring another forkful of food to his mouth and scarf it down. 

“What else is new?” He rolls his eyes and you reach across the table to flick him between the eyes before he has the chance to pull away.

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

You scowl at one another for a moment before you break, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips and he laughs before turning back to his food. 

“So how’d your meeting with the Commander go?” Alex asks and you feel your mouth go dry at the thought.

You examine your cuticles, finding a dry piece of skin to pick at.

“It went fine. How was yours?” 

“Good, I mean, he told me I was too unorganized, but he was pleased with our progress,” Alex beams, like a child that had just been handed a gold star.

You scoff despite yourself, that sharp pain manifesting over your right eye again, making it twitch.

“What?” He scowls at you, his fork raised halfway to his mouth and you roll your eyes at him.

“Just confess you’re in love with the man and move on,” you groan, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“Don’t be bitter just because you probably got in trouble or something, it’s not my fault,” Alex grumbles around another mouthful of food. 

You let your hands drop back onto the table just in time to see two Stormtrooper’s march into the dining hall. They do a quick scan over all of the tables before moving forward.

“Wonder what poor soul they’re here for,” you whisper and Alex quickly looks up, following your line of sight.

And then your heart plummets, dropping all the way into your stomach as you realize they’re headed right for you. Alex quickly catches your gaze, his own eyes slightly widened before you both turn back to the stormtrooper’s as they come to a stop at the end of your table.

“Good afternoon Captain,” one of them greets and your fingers twitch against the table top as you take a shuddering breath. “The Commander has orders for you to accompany him. He departs at 06:00, you will meet him in the docking bay.”

“I-I’m sorry I don’t understand, departing for what?” The pain over your eye is searing, you can feel every single beat of your heart throbbing in your temples as you stare into the Stormtrooper’s blank visor.

“A mission, that is all I can disclose. I would recommend you ready yourself quickly and do not keep the Commander waiting.”

“I can’t - go with him,” you breathe, panic twisting in your chest and making your ribcage feel like it’s caving in on you.

“You must, it’s not a request Captain,” and then they’re gone, marching away from you like they hadn’t just dropped your worst nightmare right at your feet. 

You press a hand to your mouth, barely swallowing down your meal threatening to come back up. Each pulse in your head is enough to make the room spin, and you’re almost certain it might push your eyes right out of your head.

Is this some kind of sick joke?

_ Had  _ you done something to make him absolutely loathe you to this point?

What use could you possibly fucking be to him.

“Well,” you mumble, throat burning and mouth bitter from the acid trying to flee your stomach as you turn to meet Alex’s wide eyes, his jaw dropped open. “Eat that.”


	2. No One Knows How It Will End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just to clarify about readers age let's say she's somewhere between 23-26. 
> 
> Also the RRE is basically the First Order equivalent to our military's SERE program.
> 
> ALSO, I don't want to spend too much time on this, bc I know this virus is causing a lot of people a lot of fear and anxiety I don't want to ignore it completely but I also don't want to dwell on it. I think this site is a great source of escape and distraction from it all, so if that's part of why you're here I hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself :) Just remember to wash your hands, stay hydrated and well rested, and protect the elderly and autoimmune-compromised people in your lives. I would also STRONGLY recommend avoiding news sources as much as possible, and rely on the CDC and medical professionals for the majority of your information :) 
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, thank you to those of you who have left kudos and support on the previous chapter, it's very much appreciated! I hope y'all enjoy this one as well

You stand in your office, palms pressed flat against your desk as you try to get a grip on yourself. Ever since that Stormtrooper had given you you’re order’s you’ve felt simultaneously on the verge of vomiting, crying, and hysterical laughter. You also can’t figure out if you’re having so many thoughts so quickly you can’t seem to grasp a single one, or if your head has in fact gone completely empty. It feels like you’re just floating, everything moving too slow, and nothing making a whole lot of sense.

A knock on your open door makes your head snap upright, bringing your gaze up to meet the familiar face of your Major.

By the way he’s looking at you, you’re guessing you look about as lost and dazed as you currently feel. 

“I was informed of your current assignment,” he tells you, taking a slow step into your office as if he’s afraid to approach you, like you might turn on him like some wild animal. “I, um, how are you feeling?”

“I don’t get it,” you nearly wheeze the words, your own voice sounding like you’re underwater, far away and wrong. “It doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why me?”

He takes a deep breath, corners of his mouth twisting down and he genuinely does look sorry for you. He rubs at the back of his neck, no doubt having about as much success navigating this as you are. 

“You’re an accomplished officer, you graduated top of your class and have exceeded expectations whenever given the opportunity,” he crosses his arms as you drop into your seat. “Maybe he decided you were the most capable person for the task he has at hand. If I had known when he came around asking for recommendations-”

“You recommended me for this?” You blink up at him, unable to help the flicker of rage that slips into your tone and he winces.

“I didn’t know. He was just asking about officers, I told him you were my most capable and trustworthy,” he sits across from you, leaning forward on your desk as if wanting to reach out to you, brows furrowed together. “If I had known why he was asking, or that it was going to take you away from us for six months, I would have answered differently.”

The room spins and you almost gag.

You double over on yourself, pressing a hand over your mouth. 

Six months. You have to work and live in close proximity to that insufferable human being for six  _ months _ ? 

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, your Major’s brows raising almost up into his hairline as another humorless bark of laughter escapes you. Surely there must have been something you had done, in this life or the last, to make you worthy of this kind of suffering.

“It doesn’t matter now,” you push yourself upright, trying to ignore the way your hands shake when you lift them off the desk. “There’s nothing that can be done, except for me to do my job. If you’ll excuse me sir, I need to get ready to leave.”

“Wait,” he calls and you freeze in the doorway, not wanting to have to look back at him. “I’m sorry, really, I didn’t know.”

You take a deep breath, most of your frustration melting away because he sounds sincere and it isn’t fair to take your anger out on him. He’s really not the one you should be upset with at the moment. You turn just enough to shoot him a wry smile over your shoulder, his expression softening just a bit.

“Try not to let this place fall apart without me sir,” you say, and then leave, before he has the chance to stop you again.

You hadn’t been told how, or what to pack but at least you have a timeline now so you pack simply, only essentials and you try to keep things minimal. 

This will be the first time you’ve left Starkiller Base since arriving here. After your injury in the field you had been stationed here, retrained, and repurposed as another cog in the machine in a very short period of time. The thought of a job that puts you back in your old field almost excites you, the familiar rush of adrenaline, not having to spend hours staring at a screen, feeling useful, it had all been part of why you had gone special tactics. But more overwhelmingly it fills you with a sense of dread, insides twisting with anxiety.

You press your fingers into your shoulder, rubbing over your collarbone until you feel the lump where the bone had broken apart and then rehealed. 

You suppose your saving grace is if you fail now, you’ll at least be killed before you really have the chance to suffer over it. 

You drop onto your bed, staring at your packed bag as you slowly let yourself come to terms with this assignment, and you feel yourself slip back into familiar and comfortable resignation. There are six hours until you have to leave, and you figure you might as well try to get some rest. It won’t do you any good to be exhausted on top of your already existent misery. 

You shower, letting the hot water relax some of your muscles, releasing some of the tension you had been holding in your shoulders and jaw.

You slip into the clothes you’ll wear to depart, not wanting to worry about making yourself look presentable when you wake up, before crawling into bed. 

It’s harder than you’d like to quiet your mind, trying to force your body into sleep, actively keeping your head empty, filling it with the image of an empty black box. 

Your image morphs, not a box but a chest and broad shoulders draped in black. Of that black and silver helmet, inhuman and cold, locking you in place with eyes you can’t see. More shadow than man, his breathing harsh and distorted through the helmet’s vocoder. 

“ _ I will tolerate no more mistakes _ .” 

⇼

It’s somehow like everyone knows your fate as you walk through the halls with your bag slung over your shoulder. Eyes seem to land on you and follow as you make the trek to the docking bay. Maybe they do know, you wouldn’t put it past your brother to run his stupid mouth and start some kind of gossip.

Not that it matters. Their judgement won’t change anything.

The only opinion you have the energy to worry about is Kylo Ren’s. 

You spot his Command Shuttle immediately, the thing just as overbearing and intimidating looking as the man it belongs to. 

It’s like a dark beacon, calling you forward and overwhelming you with dread. Your legs seem to get heavier with every step towards it until you’re sure your feet must be made out of lead. You adjust the grip on your bag, trying to steady yourself as you approach the ramp. 

“Captain, the Commander has not yet arrived. You may wait for him inside,” the woman standing at the base of the ramp tells you, and you swear you see a flash of something like amusement in her eyes.

You clench your jaw, nodding stiffly to her before ascending the ramp. The passenger component is surprisingly spacious, though it has the same suffocating, sterile feeling as a hospital ward. 

You set your bag down on an empty seat, taking yourself on a short tour. There’s a table and chairs, and a row of seating on the opposite wall. Tucked into an alcove there are bunks that look cramped and uncomfortable but you suppose it’s better than trying to sleep sitting upright. You pause at the entrance to the cockpit, it’s dark and the amount of controls and switches to your untrained eye is overwhelming. 

It’s almost like you can sense him, the air around you becoming heavier as you hear the sound of his heavy footfalls moving towards you. You turn, standing at attention as he enters the shuttle, the sight of him moving towards you is enough to have your stomach twisting itself into the alphabet.

“Commander, it’s-”

“Sit,” he cuts you off, brushing past you and entering the cockpit without so much as even looking back in your direction.

More out of shock than obedience, you drop into an available chair, watching the ramp rise. Sealing you into your fate.

The shuttle rumbles to life, rising and hovering for a moment before jolting forward and you grit your teeth. And then it stabilizes and it feels like you’re just floating.

It’s in that moment you realize you’re alone with Kylo Ren. Not alone in a room with a door separating you from other people and freedom, but truly alone. The only way to escape him now would be to launch yourself into space. If he did anything to you here, no one would know, and it’s very likely no one would ever find out.

The thought makes your blood run cold and sweat to build in between your shoulder blades. Your heart jolts inside your chest and you nearly leap to your feet when he steps back into the passenger compartment.

You want to speak, want to ask questions, but you can’t move your tongue. You just stare into the black void of where his eyes should be in his helmet and try to breathe.

“You were Rescue, Resistance, and Escape in your Special Tactics unit,” again, it’s not a question but you nod. “I’m bringing you to the Finalizer, you will train task forces in this field.”

You blink at him, surprised. His men getting captured and questioned seems like an odd thing for him to be concerned about. 

“I need my people to understand what goes on in a captive’s head, to better anticipate their behavior,” he says as if reading your mind.

And of course, that makes more sense. 

Though it makes you wonder how many Resistance captives have escaped First Order captivity for him to make this a priority.

“I’ll do my best sir, but it’s hard to understand without practical training, or first hand experience,” you shrink under his gaze, voice becoming smaller the longer you speak until you regret saying anything at all. 

“You’ll find a way to make them understand,” there’s a sharpness now to his tone that makes you flinch, his gaze pointedly turning towards your left shoulder. “Perhaps your own  _ experience _ will be enough.”

Heat burns through your chest, up to your face, all the way to the soles of your feet. You grit your teeth, shame and annoyance and anger ripping through you in equal parts that you force beneath the surface. 

“Yes sir.”

Then he turns and you glare into the back of his helmet, unable to stop yourself.

_ Asshole _ .

He freezes, wheeling back around to face you and your heart leaps into your throat. He advances until he’s almost pressed up against you, you’re mind going completely blank as you stare wide eyed back up at him.

“Is there something else you would like to add,  _ Captain _ ?” He spits the word at you, the venom in his voice even leaking through the distortion of his vocoder and you feel all of the blood run from your face.

“No sir,” you manage, the words barely a breath. 

You can see his shoulders rising and falling faster than they should and genuine fear flashes through you, that Lieutenant’s blue, lifeless face pushing forward in your mind until you feel ill. Another wave of fear grips you at the thought of vomiting all over Kylo Ren’s shoes. 

He stands there for another moment, fists clenched at his side as he looks down at you. Then he turns, disappearing back into the cockpit and you nearly collapse, your legs going to jelly beneath you.

You manage to find a seat, dropping into it and pressing a hand over your mouth as you try to calm yourself down.

How the hell are you supposed to survive this.

⇼

Kylo Ren doesn’t speak to you again, the two of you parting ways once you board the Finalizer and you couldn’t be more thankful. 

You’re greeted by an eager looking Second Lieutenant, she’s young, obviously just out of the academy, her eyes still bright and hopeful. She’s pretty in a plain kind of way, medium toned brown hair, grey eyes, and a nice but unremarkable face. 

“Second Lieutenant Elle Tanner ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be your second in command as an RRE instructor, which basically just means I’ll be making sure you don’t have any deskwork to worry about,” she chirps, motioning for you to follow. “I’ll give you a quick tour, and then let you get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it before your first day.”

She glances around, slowing her stride to fall in step with you before lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Commander Ren has been going through RRE instructors like flies, don’t know what exactly they’re doing wrong, but hopefully together we can give him what he’s looking for.”

That pain over your eye again, like someones jabbing a needle into your sinus cavity. You glance over at Tanner and force yourself to return her hopeful smile.

She shows you the officer dining hall, the bridge, a wide open room where your classes will be held, and last the officer quarters, and your room.

“Well, that’s it for the tour, I’ll leave you to rest ma’am, and if you ever need anything, I’m ten doors down the hall,” Tanner leaves you, still smiling bright as she nearly skips down the hall and you sigh.

You press your officer number into the keypad and the door slides open, and just as swiftly shuts behind you.

It’s almost identical to your room on base. Dark walls, dark floors, a plain full sized bed, a sitting area and a refresher tucked into the corner. You wonder if every room the Order has built is exactly the fucking same. You wouldn’t be surprised, the Order isn’t known for their creativity.

The thought brings a wry smile to your lips.

You don’t bother turning on any lights, stripping out of your clothing. Showering only for the pseudo-sense of washing Kylo Ren’s presence from your skin.

The thought that you’ll probably be haunted by that man until the day you die crosses your mind and it’s almost enough to make you want to cry. But you can’t help but find some kind of twisted humor in the fact that he’ll more than likely be the cause of your death as well. It doesn’t matter how you feel about the man, your life is now entirely his. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. 

You don’t sleep well that night and the morning comes far too soon.

You dress, smooth back your hair, hope the dark circles under your eyes aren’t too noticeable, and head for the training room.

You’re greeted by a room full of 20 people who all snap to attention as you enter. Tanner stands in the back corner, offering a small wave when you make eye contact. You nod to her, taking a few deep breaths to steady your nerves before you introduce yourself. 

Public speaking has never been your strong suit, but you do your best to seem confident and self assured as you take paced steps back and forth across the room. 

“It’s been several years since I graduated from my RRE program, and I’ll be honest with you, it was a slightly different program than this is going to be,” you admit, earning a few chuckles. “I won’t be preparing you to be captured, but rather what to do once you have captured someone.” 

You watch a few of them shift, some exchanging glances and there’s that pain again over your eye, you turn so they can’t see it twitch. 

“But first you’ll need to be inside the head of a captive, you need to understand the first reactions they might have, how to anticipate behaviors and responses,” you stop pacing going over the list of rules that had been burned into you in the Academy. “Rule number one is never allow yourself to be taken to a second location, so they’ll fight hard not to be. In fact that’s probably when they’ll fight the hardest.”

You go through the list of rules; always search for a means of escape, but if you can’t find one prepare to be tortured, and under no circumstance are you to talk.

“Not all of the Resistance soldiers will have military training, those are likely to be the most messy. They’ll talk to try to distract you, they’ll give you false information to try to get a break, they’ll also be the easiest to break,” you stop, looking over the faces in front of you.

Each of them is solemn, even Tanner’s bright smile is gone.

And then you spot him, a shadow hugging the back corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he observes. 

You swallow, turning your eyes back to the people in front of you and trying to pretend he’s not there.

“Any questions?” You ask.

A slow hand creeps up, the young man it belongs to looking apprehensive before it’s all the way in the air.

You nod, giving him permission to speak.

“Have you ever been tortured ma’am?” His voice is small, nervous, and you watch everyone around him cast him sharp looks before looking back to you.

You suck air through your teeth, fingers on your left hand twitching against your thigh, the taste of metal and the smell of burned skin and bone.

“Yes,” you force the word through your lips and it feels like everyone in the room collectively holds their breath. 

“Tell us what the most efficient form of torture is, Captain,” everyone freezes at the sound of that distorted voice, no one daring to turn and look at him.

Except for you, and you force any emotion trying to surface as far down as you can, your expression and voice neutral when you respond.

“Burns. If you burn someone too deeply it kills the nerves and they won’t feel it anymore, but if you burn them just enough it’ll fry the nerves and it’ll hurt until the burn heals. And they’re nonfatal as long as you keep to the extremities. Then once the victim heals you can start all over again,” you do your best to hold his hidden gaze, to appear unfazed, but talking about it is making you see spots and your pulse is so loud you can hear it. 

“You’re all dismissed,” Ren orders and no one seems to be able to leave the room fast enough.

“That was- um- very insightful ma’am, you did great,” Tanner offers but you can see the waver in her smile, and for a moment she looks afraid.

And it’s in that moment you realize she’s afraid of you.

“Thank’s Tanner,” you whisper, mustering the best smile you can at her and she relaxes just enough, her smile turning genuine before she follows the others out. 

You stand where you are, staring at Ren as he stares at you.

You wonder if he wears the helmet because he’s grossly disfigured, or if it’s because the anonymity allows him to create more fear, allows people to forget he’s human under that helmet. You also realize you could run into him in civilian clothing and you’d be none the wiser you had just brushed shoulders with Kylo Ren. The thought fills you with a swell of anxiety.

Is that why he hates you so much?

Had he overheard something you’d said one day when you didn’t even know he was around?

“Do you know why I chose you for this job, Captain,” he says in that odd inflection that makes his questions sound nothing like questions at all.

“Major Brigs said he recom-”

“Yes. But do you know why I chose you,” he’s moved closer to you, close enough that you can reach out and touch him and you hope he can’t see the way your pulse jumps in your throat.

“No, sir,” you answer, unable to pull your eyes away from his covered face as he closes what’s left of the distance between you.

“I didn’t choose you for your academic or professional achievements, I didn’t choose you because your commanding officer  _ recommended  _ you. I chose you,” His voice drops low enough that even the vocoder skips out, and for a moment you hear  _ him _ , your head spinning and body freezing as he places his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat as he leans in close enough for your rapid breaths to fog up the front of his helmet, “because you’re  _ obedient _ .” 

Your entire body is swallowed in a rush of heat. Fear and,  _ something else _ , twisting in your stomach and nearly knocking the air from your lungs as you blink up at your own doe eyed reflection in his helmet. 

You can’t speak, you can’t think, everything escaping you except for the sensation of his gloved hand on your bare throat and how close his body is to yours.

“Continue the instruction as you did today, and perhaps this will not be a waste,” his voice is aggravatingly even, and you hope he takes the flush blooming across your cheeks purely as embarrassment. 

And then he’s gone, pulling away from you and exiting the room as if what had just happened was completely normal and fine. 

You let yourself drop onto your hip, eyes still fixed forward, a shaking hand reaching up to rest against where his had just been. Slowly trying to regain control over your body and mind, your heart finally slowing to an acceptable rhythm.

Well,  _ fuck _ . 


	3. As You're Pretty, So Be Wise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I don't really have a whole lot to say about this chapter.
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for your kudos, and comments on the first two chapters! I'm very appreciative of the feedback and support.
> 
> I hope you're having a great day, and you enjoy this chapter as well :)

You manage to get through a month on the Finalizer without another encounter with Kylo Ren. Occasionally you’ll see him in the distance or you’ll pass by each other, both of you pretending the other isn’t there. But he’s made no more sit-ins on your instruction, and he’s made no attempts at direct conversation.

In truth you’re grateful for that.

You still have a hard time making heads or tails of your last interaction, and you have an even harder time trying to figure out the way it had made you feel. 

More often than you would like you find yourself spacing out, thinking about his hand on your throat, the feel of leather against your skin, his body warm and solid pressed against yours… 

You feel like you’re going crazy, tearing yourself apart from the inside because he’s fucking  _ awful _ and terrifies the shit out of you, but at the same time you can’t ignore the way your body reacted, to the want that you had felt for him and have ever since, overwhelming you with more confusion and shame.

And what the  _ fuck _ had that whole obedience comment meant? By all the gods combined how were you supposed to figure out what to do with that.

Every time you think about it, it just brings new questions and waves of uneasiness, and less about his behavior and more over your own.

Shouldn’t you be terrified, appalled? Shouldn’t your immediate response have been to report it to someone? Not that anyone could do anything about it because it’s Kylo Ren, but surely he can’t just go around treating lower ranking officers so… Inappropriately. 

Most importantly, you absolutely should not have liked it. Not even just a tiny bit. Having enjoyed any part of that was having enjoyed it too much.

This man truly is going to be the death of you.

“Er- are you in there ma’am?” Tanner’s hesitant voice draws you back, you blink up at the girl from where you sit behind your desk.

She stands before you, hands clasped behind her back, lips pursed and a delicate eyebrow comically arched and you feel yourself flush as you wonder how long she’s been standing there. 

“Sorry, checked out for a second,” you motion for her to sit and she slides into the seat across from you, looking nervous about something. “What is it Lieutenant?” 

“Well it’s just- you’ve been really busy, and you’re doing a great job as an instructor, but the other officers haven’t really gotten to meet you, and well…” She glances down, fiddling with the cuff of her uniform. “There’s going to be an officer dinner tonight, you should come. It’d be nice to get to know everyone else and uh, to have some conversation not around torture and captives, ma’am.” 

Your first instinct is to say no. You almost do. But you catch yourself, maybe she’s right. Maybe it would be good for you to interact with some other, normal people and have something to distract you. Plus if you’re going to be working around these people for another five months it wouldn’t hurt to have even a slightly positive acquaintance with them.

“Sure, I’ll go,” you say and she doesn her best to keep her expression neutral but she all but beams at you.

“Oh! That’s-ok, well we’re meeting on the bridge at 19:00, and it’s casual so you get to wear civilian clothes,” she leans slightly forward, eyes twinkling with mischief as she whispers. “And there’ll be drinks.”

“Sounds great,” you find yourself smiling back at her without really meaning to, but you’re starting to warm up to her unwavering optimism.

“Cool, um, see you then Captain!” She nearly runs from the room, seeming to catch herself and think better of it almost a little late.

You’d of course already met your commanding officer, a slightly grumpy 40-some year old man with the biggest eyebrows you’ve ever seen, but he’s respectful and easy to work with. The others though, you’ve only seen in passing in the halls.

It couldn’t hurt to have at least a couple of friends here. 

It also wouldn’t hurt to maybe have a drink or two.

⇼

You decide to wear your hair down simply because you can, taking full advantage of being able to dress casually. Your outfit might be a little plain but it’s not like you’re here to impress anyone with your fashion sense anyway.

You pass by what you assume are other officers, also dressed casually, on your way to the bridge, offering a few nods when you make eye contact. 

When you enter the bridge and find it full of people you regret agreeing to come at all. 

It’s not overly crowded, tables and chairs taking up more space than people but there’s enough people to make you want to turn and walk the other way. Almost everyone already has a drink in hand, standing in small groups and chatting about who knows what. Probably work if you had to guess, there isn’t much else to talk about unless you want to get political. 

“Captain!” Tanner’s familiar chirp makes you turn, watching the girl approach you with that wide grin. “You actually came.”

Her hair is loose and wavy, you hadn’t realized how long it is, hanging down to her waist. Her clothes are fitted but appropriate, showing off her athletic build, and there’s a flush to her cheeks that makes her eyes seem more blue than grey 

“I almost didn’t,” you sigh and she purses her lips, eyebrows lowering together slightly but before she can complain you say, “you look nice.”

Her eyes widen slightly, the flush on her cheeks darkening and her jaw dropping before she laughs.

“Thanks, y-you too,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I was just talking to some guys from munitions, I’ll introduce you.”

If you had to guess they’re around your age, slightly older, a captain and a major who as soon as you lay eyes on you don’t like. Something about the slow look up and down and grin the captain gives you makes you grit your teeth at a spark of anger that flares in your chest that you try to ignore. They introduce themselves as Rix and Derek, and maybe if you had just passed by them you would have found them attractive. But everything about the way they look at you and talk is setting off warning bells in your head. Derek is a bit more charming but he keeps moving closer to Tanner, acting like he needs to lean in toward her to hear what she’s saying.

“So, RRE, that’s some pretty tough stuff. They make you go through simulated torture and stuff for that right?” Rix asks you and you wonder if that smug grin is just permanently etched onto his face.

“Yeah,” you cross your arms and keep your gaze fixed on your drink, the thing only half way gone but you already feel like you need another one.

“What kind of stuff do they do to you?” He leans closer and whispers it to you and you  _ hate _ it.

You can almost taste bile on the back of your tongue and it takes everything in you to suppress the shudder that’s crawling up your spine.

“I can’t talk about it,” you take another sip of your drink, loudly crunching on a piece of ice and it gets him to back up. 

“Right, no one can ever talk about the cool stuff,” he sighs.

You close your eyes, trying to ignore the way you feel your blood pressure rise and you press your tongue to your teeth to keep it still. But it can’t stop your mind, thoughts spinning and trapping you between rage and panic.

“Tanner,” you bark and her head snaps toward you, her polite yet uncomfortable smile still stretched across her face. “I’m going to get another drink, come with me?”

“I can get you-”

“I can get it myself,” you snap, cutting Rix off before he can finish, unable to stop the glare you send his way.

And that smirk finally drops and you can’t help the small swell of triumph you feel.

“Yeah, sure,” Tanner glances between you two before pulling herself away from Derek and following after you.

“Gods, I thought you were going to rip his throat out,” she whispers as she tags beside you. “What did he say to you?”

“Just be careful of those guys, something seems off about them to me,” you force yourself to relax, to soften as you reach the drinks table.

“I got that feeling too,” she agrees, looking over all of the options spread out on the table before her.

The two of you keep mostly to yourselves after that, and you really wish you hadn’t come to this fucking thing. You hate the thought of interjecting yourself into someone else's conversation but you also have no desire to strike up a conversation either.

Not that Tanner seems to mind, chatting away about how your last lesson had gone and ways she thought you might be able to get through to the students a bit better.

“Tanner!” Someone shouts and you both turn as a young man, tall and broad with caramel colored hair and green eyes, and a woman with black hair and sharp brown eyes walk towards you.

“Hey!” She jumps to greet them, offering them both a quick hug.

“Who’s your friend?” The guy asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks pointedly in your direction.

“Oh, right,” Tanner remembers herself, introducing you to them before gesturing to the woman, “this is Minne, and the big oaf is Baize. We graduated from the academy together.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you smile at them, gesturing to the open seats around you. “Feel free to join us.”

The three of them regale you with stories from their time at the academy and the trouble they managed to get themselves into. You listen to them laugh at their inside jokes and talk about stories that will probably never be funny to you but it’s nice to see them look so carefree and young and happy. 

“Captain!” You jump, blinking at the wide eyed, pale faced boy that rushes to the end of your table. “S-so sorry to disturb you m-ma’am, but it’s Commander R-Ren. I’m to bring you to him.”

You feel more eyes than at your table turn on you and your heart launches into your throat. Tanner’s eyes go round, her smile fading as she watches you stand. You do your best to give her a reassuring look but it’s hard to do when you feel your knees tremble as you get to your feet. The young man leads you out of the bridge, through the officers who fall quiet and watch you pass and you pretend not to notice.

The farther you follow him the more you feel your palms sweating and your heart racing, and you swear you can hear your pulse echoing off the walls as you move through the empty hallways.

Had you finally messed up?

Had he finally decided he’d had enough of whatever it is you do that pisses him off so bad, and it’s finally time to do something about it?

“He’s in there ma’am,” he points to the door and you nod.

He quite literally runs away, his footsteps echoing your heart pounding in your own ears.

You take a deep breath, bracing for whatever is about to be thrown at you and step inside. 

You don’t even register the sound of the door closing behind you, senses overwhelmed by the smell of something burning, and the wall at the far end of the room that’s been torn to pieces. The metal is sliced open, still glowing red and looking far too much like fresh, bloody wounds to you.

Kylo Ren stands off to the side, his shoulders rising and falling just a bit too fast, his hands curled into fists at his side, a tension in his arms and shoulders that makes your mouth go dry.

The fear you’re the one he’s angry with fading, being overwhelmed by the thought that there must have been something else to get him this upset. Your relief however, is short lived at the realization he’s most likely still called you here to take his anger out on you anyway. 

You don’t dare speak, but the realization makes a flicker of anger intermingle with your fear. What the hell did he have against you to call you out by name, to punish you for something you didn’t even do?

“Do you know why you’re here?” He finally asks and you clench down on your jaw.

“Does it have anything to do with my  _ obedience _ ?” 

You bite down on your tongue, silently cursing yourself when he turns on you, fixing you under that immobilizing gaze. 

He doesn’t move, just stares and you fight the urge to fidget, doing your best to remain still and steady. But after about fifteen seconds the urge to crawl out of your own skin wins out and you chew on your lower lip, wringing your hands. 

“One of our Resistance captives escaped,” he snaps, beginning to circle you in slow, long strides, “With vital information. Are you not the one I tasked with training my men to make sure this doesn’t happen?”

At first you feel dread, panic, that unwavering fear of failure that refuses to leave you twisting in your chest and making you feel ill. 

You take a deep breath through your nose to steady yourself, biting down so hard on your back teeth it hurts when you feel that familiar tinge of anger when you force yourself to accept this had nothing to do with you.

How are you supposed to control how well everyone else does their job? It’s not like you’re the one that let them escape. You’ve only even been training people for this for a month, what the hell are you supposed to be able to do about it?

“That is certainly unfortunate sir, I apologize,” you do your best to keep your tone as neutral and possible, fighting to keep your own annoyance from slipping into your voice.

He stops behind you, your throat squeezing shut and stomach turning when you hear him breathing, distorted, and heavy, and very close. 

“Get on your knees,” he orders, voice low and gravely even through the vocoder and you can’t help the tremble that starts in your shoulders. 

“S-sir?” You blink at the wall torn to pieces in front of you, the metal now cooled to a fading bright white, the black gaps in between look aching and endless. 

“Was that too complicated of a command for you Captain?” He’s closer, his voice lower and full of venom and you bite down so hard on the inside of your cheek you taste blood.

You hate yourself, hate the warmth that curls in your lower stomach and makes you press your thighs together in want. But you just keep thinking about his hand on your throat, and how he talks to you like he  _ hates  _ you, and how it would feel to get fucked like you’re hated.

Then there’s that shift in the air, that something that tingles along your skin and makes your ears ring and your head feels like it’s going to burst. You gasp at the sudden weight on your shoulders, your body caving to it and knees buckling beneath you. The impact of your knees hitting the ground sends a jolt through you and you grit your teeth at the pain that travels through your bones. 

The pressure releases and you take a deep breath, wiping away the sweat beginning to bead along your hairline. 

You hear his footsteps as he moves closer, and then his hand is curled in your hair, tugging and wrenching your head back to look at him and you can’t help the yelp that leaves you. Your hands fly up to curl around his wrist, your fingernails digging into the leather. 

“When I give an order you obey,” he hisses, giving another tug on your hair that makes you groan. “Am I understood?”

“Yes sir.”

He uses his grip on you to shove you forward and you catch yourself on your hands, staring down at the ground between your fingers.

You’re breathing too fast, chest expanding and contracting rapidly, but you can’t help it. Can’t stop the way your heart is beating too hard and irregular in your chest. Can’t force the tension that’s crept it’s way into every one of your muscles back out. 

“Good,” he growls, taking his sweet time walking around to stand before you, taking in your form bowed before him. 

He crouches in front of you, and curls his fingers into your jaw, the stitching of his leather gloves biting into your skin as he lifts your head, forcing you to look into that empty mask again.

“So much fear,” he muses, voice soft, almost amused. “So afraid to disappoint, to fail. Such an insatiable desire to  _ please _ .” 

You suck in a breath, your body going cold as you blink up at him, time seeming to freeze around you. You’re suddenly very aware of the sound of your own breathing, rapid and harsh in the silence. Is he pulling this out of his ass, or is he actually … somehow … in your head? 

“Oh, yes,” his fingers curl harder into your skin, pushing your cheeks into your teeth and you can’t help the whimper that leaves you. “I can see everything. Your fear, your pain, your anger, your want.”

You close your eyes, trying to pull your head away but his grip is like iron around your jaw, leaving you exposed as you bask in your shame. But even still there’s that persistent, irritating need between your thighs, that ache for friction in your core that makes you shift your hips in hope of relieving some of it. You feel helpless, small, feeble under his stare and within his grasp, but it just makes you want even more.

“Fascinating,” he mumbles, his voice so low it hardly sounds like a word through the vocoder.

He loosens his grip on your jaw, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, pushing under your lips to run over your teeth. You keep your eyes pressed closed even as your pulse jumps, your heart beating hard enough to make your whole body shake, unable to face the reality of any of this. 

“Open your mouth,” he demands, his voice breathy and low and you flex your fingers into the ground, ignoring the burn working down your arms.

You let your jaw relax, dropping to allow him just enough space to hook his thumb under your top teeth and force your mouth open farther. He rests his thumb against your teeth, lets you run your tongue over the pad of his finger, pressing into the seam of his glove, the stitching catching against your tongue. Then he pushes his thumb into your tongue, pinning it against the bottom of your mouth as his fingers curl around your chin.

“Look at me,” he growls and haltingly you open your eyes, blinking up at him as they adjust again to the dim light of the room. 

And he groans, it’s barely audible, almost more of a breath broken through his vocoder but it’s enough to have your walls clenching, and it takes everything in you to choke back your own whine. 

He pulls away from you, taking a quick step back just before the door opens. You take a shuddering breath, letting your head hang between your shoulders, and forcing yourself to remain as still as possible despite the tremble in your arms.

“P-pardon my interruption Commander, General Hux is looking for you,” the messenger at the door relays before bowing and then rushing off.

There is a stretch of silence that is so endless and oppressive you swear you can hear the sound of your own joints creaking in their attempt to keep you upright.

“Your punishment shall be reconsidered,” he states, voice once more back to it’s cold, level tone. “I’ll alert you when I find an appropriate one, Captain.”

In a flurry of heavy footsteps and fluttering black robes he’s gone, leaving you panting at your own dark reflection in the shiny floor. 

You push yourself back up onto your knees, groaning in relief and trying to massage the ache from your biceps. 

You try to process what exactly had just happened but again fall short. You feel simultaneously stunned numb, and absolutely on fire with a need more intense than you had felt in a while. You unsteadily bring yourself to your feet, knees sore and likely bruised. Heat burns up your face at the wetness you feel between your thighs, core still aching for attention.

You groan, pressing your face into your hands and taking a moment to collect yourself before starting the trek back to your room.

You’ll come up with a lie about what happened to tell Tanner when your brain is working a little better.


	4. Wolves May Lurk In Every Guise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And let the smut begin :)
> 
> I haven't written smut in a while so if this feels awkward or clunky I'm really sorry :/ I promise it will get better
> 
> As always thank you all so much for your support and I hope you enjoy!

You hadn’t slept last night.

You couldn’t quiet your brain enough to turn it off. Thoughts of Ren’s hand in your hair and the sting across your scalp, curled in your jaw and the ache as your skin sunk into your own teeth, pressed against your tongue and tasting like leather, kept knocking into you like unrelenting waves. The knowledge he’s in your head, that he’s aware of every thought you’ve had about him in his presence makes you burn with embarrassment and shame.

But eventually you had caved to your want, face pressed into your pillows as you came around your own fingers, imagining his hand in your hair and his other around your throat.

You can’t bring yourself to spend more than a few seconds at a time looking in the mirror as you get ready. Looking just long enough to make sure your hair is tidy, just long enough to know your uniform is regulation, just long enough to see the darkness under your puffy eyes.

You skip the dining hall, your appetite and willingness to face a crowd of people nonexistent. 

The walk to the training room ends too shortly, everything in you craving the security of being alone behind a closed door. 

All eyes turn to you as you enter the room and you find Tanner’s, wide and unblinking, shock, relief, and confusion flashing over her features in equal parts. You offer her as close to a smile as you can muster before turning to the class. 

You go through the lecture robotically, reciting the information exactly how you had written it in your notes. You choose to ignore the questioning glances sent between the students, afraid if you address them you might snap. 

It’s not like it can hurt anything to let them wonder. 

Ren doesn’t make an appearance and for that you’re grateful. You’d probably melt into a puddle if he so much as even looked your way right now. 

The class ends and Tanner waits until everyone's gone to approach you, eyes appraising you as if looking for any damage. 

“You- Are you … ok?” She whispers, hands pressed to her chest like she’s stopping herself from reaching out to you.

You remember what she had said about Ren going through instructors like flies, and understand her fear. She’d probably thought you were as good as dead, probably thought she’d never see you again and probably thought she’d never get an explanation as to why.

“I’m fine,” you assure her, again trying to muster a smile. “Just a little shaken, and tired.”

“What happened?” 

You motion for her to follow as you leave the room, heading for your office, desperately wanting to sit down.

“A high value Resistance captive escaped, and Commander Ren was displeased,” you keep your voice low, not wanting curious ears to overhear.

“That’s-” She bites her tongue, cutting off her own rant before it can begin. “What does that have to do with you?”

“I’m the one training his men to make sure that doesn’t happen,” you echo his words to her, watching her brows pull together.

“Screw that, that’s ridiculous,” she breathes, not bothering to censor herself this time. “Of all the people he could have punished for that!”

And then her face drops and she freezes, making you turn back to face her where she stands.

“Were you given a punishment?” She asks.

“He was summoned by General Hux before we could get there,” you tell her, hoping she doesn’t read too far into the flush that burns across your face. “He told me he’d inform me of my punishment at a later time.”

“Stars, I’m sorry,” Tanner chews her lower lip then sighs. “Um… I was going to have lunch with Minne and Baize, want to come?”

Everything in you just wants to be alone to sulk in your self disgust and shame. But you think of their carefree chatter and laughter and maybe it’ll be enough of a distraction to lift your spirits at least a little bit.

“Sure,” you nod and for the first time she smiles and it immediately makes something in your chest loosen, feeling slightly less heavy as you’re finally able to take a full breath. 

“Cool.”

You follow her to the dining hall, your heart skipping a beat as soon as you see all the people and feel their stares. Most of them had watched you be summoned to Ren last night, had all been left in the same silent curiosity and pity. But they’re merciful now, keeping their focus trained on their food or companions. 

You grab something that doesn’t look awful tasting and take the seat beside Baize as Tanner sits beside Minne.

“Well Captain, welcome back to the land of the living,” he greets, flashing dazzlingly white teeth and you roll your eyes.

“Honestly, we all thought you were as good as gone last night,” Minne leans over the table to whisper. “That’s so scary, to be summoned by the Commander personally and by name. I think I’d die before I got to him.”

“It’s not the first time it’s happened,” you laugh humorlessly and then immediately regret it when you feel all their eyes laser focus on you. “I-I mean, when he assigned me this position he did something very similar. He seems to like to corner me and scare me shitless.”

“What a dick, you do something to piss him off or something?” Baize asks around a mouthful of food and your stomach flips.

“I think he just decided I looked like a good emotional punching bag,” you mutter, earning a chuckle from him.

“Have a little sympathy,” Minne chastises, her dark eyes flashing something threatening as she looks at him.

“It’s fine, really. I mean, I’m still in one piece, right?” You try to dismiss the concern, hoping you sound nonchalant about it. 

“You are pretty tough,” Tanner muses, tapping her fork against her plate. “You guys should have heard her first day lecture. I mean, so much for easing people into it Captain.”

You shrug, smiling slightly at her teasing tone.

The more time you spend with them the more you find yourself relaxing, happy for their company. They laugh and smile easily and it makes you feel a little bit more like your own age and not like you’ve existed for thousands of tiring years. 

The four of you leave the dining hall together, the three still chattering and teasing. You pause when you notice Baize scowling at you, head turned slightly to the side like you had just said something confusing.

“Is that a bruise?” He asks, pointing to your jaw and your insides drop like you had just stepped off a ledge and are free falling. 

“Huh, that’s definitely a bruise, you have one on the other side too,” Minne leans closer, eyes narrowing slightly in realization. “They look like-”

“I fell,” you cut her off, the excuse lame but also the only one you can think of. “Hit my chin on the edge of my sink.” 

The two share a glance but don’t say another word about it, leaving Tanner looking between you all in confusion but you’re absolutely not about to explain to them why you have bruises on your jaw.

The four of you part ways, you and Tanner walking back towards your office together. She’s blabbering away lightheartedly about something and you’re glad she’s back to her normal self even though you also can’t wait to be in the silence and privacy of your office. 

As soon as your door is closed and you’re alone you melt into your chair, letting your head fall back. Your eyes burn and your body is heavy with exhaustion so you let your eyes close, taking deep breaths to try and soothe yourself, curling your arms over your middle and gripping your own sides. It takes a significant effort to keep your mind empty and your thoughts calm but you can’t take anymore internal berating. 

You let yourself relax farther into your seat, head becoming heavy and your senses sluggish, your head filled with nothing but black.

A knock on your door startles you upright and you blink, eyes scanning around your office until they land on a clock.

You’d slept for  _ four _ hours?

Shit.

“Come in,” you call, trying to make yourself look like you had not just in fact woken up from a dead sleep.

You expect Tanner but instead are met by an unfamiliar woman’s face. You can’t place what it is but there’s something about her face that reminds you of a mouse.

“Commander Ren demands your presence,” she states, her voice loud and sharp and you can’t help the way your eye twitches when she speaks. 

You take a deep breath, trying to regulate your heart as it skips several beats in your chest. But you push yourself upright, palms already sweating as you follow her out of your office. 

Thankfully no one sees you leave.

You don’t have it in you to explain yourself anymore. 

The woman leads you through an unfamiliar hallway and unease crawls up your spine as you realize you haven’t passed another person in about five minutes. She comes to a stop in front of a door, turning to you in a jerky motion.

“Commander Ren awaits you inside,” her face burns red and she refuses to look at you, turning on her heel and marching away from you.

You blink after her, then at the door, your brain processing everything at once.

Is this … Ren’s room?

Had he summoned you to his fucking  _ room _ ? 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but the fear and anticipation gripping your throat silence the sound.

You step forward, wiping your sweating palms against your thighs before reaching for the door. It slides open before you make contact, and on the other side is Kylo Ren, his presence as oppressive and intimidating as ever as you tilt your head back to look into his blank mask.

“Commander,” you breathe, the title leaving you almost more like a question than a greeting and he steps farther inside.

“Enter,” he orders.

You swallow, taking a shuddering breath before following him inside. The door shuts behind you and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. 

It’s a simple living space, a kitchen, a table and chairs, a small sitting area. Everything is dark and grey just like the rest of the ship, and there’s something about seeing a used cup on his table that jarringly reminds you of how human he is. You’d never even thought about him sitting down to eat or drink, if he wakes up and has a cup of coffee in the morning, if he sits and reads to pass time, and the thought of him in these domestic scenarios oddly enough makes you slightly less afraid.

He’s just a man.

A man that must feel terribly alone.

“We have unfinished business Captain,” he finally addresses you, pulling your attention back to him. “This time we will not be interrupted.” 

“Is this my punishment, sir?” You ask, eyes trained on his mask as you speak as if you’ll be able to garner some reaction from it.

“How perceptive of you,” his voice drips with irony and you scowl, a flush spreading across your cheeks and there it is again.

That pain over your eye. 

He guides you farther into the room, and entranced you follow, feet slightly dragging as you move after him. He leads you through the living area and into his bedroom. Your heart jumps inside your chest, beating against your ribs. You come to a stop a foot in front of him and you can hear his quickened breathing through the helmet as he stares down at you. His hand lifts, stilling a few inches from your face before pulling away. 

He drops onto the foot of his bed, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped in front of him, gaze pointed towards you.

“Strip.”

You blink at him, taking a half a step back out of surprise as your heart spasms in your chest, frame already shaking with your breathing now coming a little too fast. 

“S-sir?”

You hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since you’d been injured, and hadn’t been intimate with someone in even longer. Panic twists your insides to knots at the thought of showing him your body, of him being the first person other than you to see the scar stretching across your shoulder.

“I thought we already had this conversation  _ girl _ ,” he snaps, moving to his feet and closing the distance between you. “I gave you an order.”

His hand curls around your chin, keeping your eyes trained on him and you can’t stop your stuttering inhale. 

“I-It’s my scar sir, it’s-”

“You think I care?” He cuts you off, his hand sliding down to curl loosely around your throat, his fingers curling into the back of your neck and scalp and you let out a shaky gasp. “Now, be a good little girl, and strip.”

His words nearly send you into a tailspin, mind blanking of anything but the low rumble of his voice. 

You nod and he lets you go, moving back to his place at the foot of his bed.

Your shaking hands fumble with the buttons of your shirt, averting your eyes as you let it fall from your shoulders. You don’t need to see your scar to know what it looks like, jagged and silvery and spidery, stretching almost from your armpit to just slightly around onto your back. A seam where you had been broken open and put back together. 

Next you kick off your boots, then push your pants down your hips, kicking them to the side as well when they pool around your ankles. You take a deep breath, hesitating before unhooking your bra, letting it slide down your arms and onto the floor. Before you can lose your nerve you hook your thumbs under the elastic of your underwear and push them down your thighs.

You stand completely bare before him, unable to keep yourself from shivering, your gaze trained hard on his boots. 

“Turn around,” he orders, a growl in his voice you can hear even through the helmet and you quickly turn your back to him. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Something in your lower abdomen clenches and your eyelids flutter as you strangle back a moan, the sound instead escaping you as an unsteady exhale. You lower yourself onto your already bruised knees before bending to rest your weight on your hands. You arch your back, giving him a full view of you and he lets out a low, strained sound that you barely hear through his helmet. 

“Fuck,” he spits, moving to his feet and crossing the distance between you before you can think.

His hand curls around the back of your neck, and you grunt when your face makes contact with the cold floor, turning your head so you can’t see him, leaving your ass in the air, and your back arched uncomfortably. 

“Count them,” he hisses at you before his gloved hand lands hard against your ass. 

You yelp, eyes going wide and hips jerking forward at the sudden contact and resulting sting.

He spanks you again but you bite back any sound that threatens to leave you this time, gritting your teeth as he presses your face harder into the ground.

“I fucking told you to count them,” he spits, the front of his helmet pressed right up against your ear and you whine. 

“T-two.”

His hand slides down to the back of your thigh, squeezing until it hurts and you squirm as much as you can in his grip.

“Two what?” His voice is low, dripping with rage and arousal and you press your eyes shut.

“Two, sir.”

“There’s a good girl,” he growls, straightening before bringing his hand down for another smack. 

“Three sir,” you moan against the sting, the tension in your lower belly pulling tighter, core clenching around nothing as your hips push back into his hand.

“Look at you, you  _ love  _ this,” he almost sounds amused. “You know you deserve to be punished, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whine, hips shifting against his hand as he rubs circles into the sensitive skin. 

“You’re already getting wet, naughty little girl,” one of his fingers pushes into your slit, spreading your slick over your folds, finger just grazing over your clit and your body jerks as you moan.

He pulls his hand from your core, landing a sharp smack on your other cheek and you keen, upper body rocking against the floor.

“Four sir,” you’re panting, every single nerve alight, making you far too aware of his fingers pressing into your scalp, of the fabric of his robes brushing over your hip and thigh every time you move, of the smooth hot leather of his glove as it rubs circles into your aching skin. 

“Have you had enough, or do you think you deserve more?” His hand on your head curls into your hair and tugs just enough for it to sting and you groan. 

“I-I’ll take whatever you give me sir,” you’re surprised by the wantonness in your own voice, but the ache in your core is winning out over any other desire you might have, including maintaining any sense of dignity.

“That’s right,” he grunts, before landing three quick, sharp spanks in succession and you shout, moaning as the settling sting makes your walls flutter and your toes curl. 

“S-seven sir,” you hiccup as you try to catch your breath, fingers scraping against the ground, failing to find the purchase they’re looking for.

His hand leaves you again and you hear the shifting of fabric, and you can’t help your ragged gasp when his fingers brush over your inner thigh. You don’t feel leather, just skin, palm broad and burning against you, fingers long and calloused as they slide up the inside of your leg. You hold your breath, your own pulse deafening in your ears as he takes his time feeling you. 

He pushes a finger through your folds, your arousal now practically dripping down the inside of your thighs, muscles in your abdomen seizing as he rubs slow circles into your clit. You whimper, unable to stop your hips from rocking against his hand.

“Such a needy little cunt,” there’s a breathlessness to his voice now that makes your head spin, body trembling as the tension in your core pulls painfully tight, his lazy ministrations bringing you closer to the edge. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? When you fucked yourself on your own fingers this morning and wished they were mine?”

Another wave of shame washes over you at having been caught, but it doesn’t stop the way your body responds to the thought. You hope he sees it all, you whimpering his name into your pillow, your wetness dripping down your hand as you massaged your insides, grinding your clit into the heel of your palm until your walls pulsed and squeezed around your fingers as you came. 

He moans, the sound low and raspy even through the distortion, his hand in your hair shifting to curl around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your heady go fuzzy and your eyes to cross, your muscles tensing and hips rolling against his hand.

“Let me show you what it really feels like,” he pants, finger sliding back through your folds before pushing smoothly into your weeping entrance. 

You gasp at the intrusion, body shaking at the sensation of his much longer fingers inside you, reaching so much farther than you ever could and  _ stars _ … 

He pushes the finger in and out of you a few times before adding a second and a choked sound spills from your lips as he curls them inside you. He starts slow, curling and shifting his fingers inside you until he finds the spot that makes you cry out, body writhing to both pull away and push closer. Then his pace is merciless, heat searing through your lower stomach and strangled cries falling from you as you jerk and tremble beneath him.

Kylo is panting above you, low grunts and groans slipping through every now and then as he brings your body to the brink.

“C-Commander I’m- ah-” you try to warn him but your brain won’t let you put more than a few words together before it’s wiped clean by another curl of his fingers.

Your body quakes, every muscle pulled so tight you fear you might snap as the icy hot sensation pooling in your belly snakes all the way out into your fingers and toes. 

“That’s it, be a good girl and cum on my fingers,” he rasps, his hand on your throat squeezing tighter and you're gone.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a scream tearing from you as you cum, the tension in your body finally releasing as it crashes over you in waves, leaving you gasping and whimpering as your pussy clenches around his fingers still inside you. 

He pulls away from you all together and you whimper, collapsing against the ground as your body gives out. You try to collect yourself, still panting and shaking through the aftershocks, your body heavy yet weightless at the same time. At the sound of rustling fabric and a muffled groan you force yourself to sit up.

Your mouth goes dry when you spot him on the foot of his bed, his hand still slick with your release pumping his cock. 

You suppose he’s a large man, so it makes sense he’d also have a large dick but stars you’re not even sure you could take him. He’s long and thick, and twitching in his own hand, the head red and glistening as his precum mixes with your wetness. Even if you can’t see them you can  _ feel _ his eyes on you as he jerks himself, a low grunt slipping through his vocoder when you lick your lips.

You push yourself onto your knees, giving him a nice display of your breasts as they’re pressed together between your arms and he swears.

“Come here,” he gasps, head falling forwards as you crawl towards him, stopping between his knees.

Then you’re being lifted and thrown unceremoniously onto his bed, the air knocking from your lungs as you land on your back. There’s that pressure, that crackling in your skull and buzzing in your ears and you can’t move. Your hands are stuck beside your head, your legs spread wide, the only thing you can move are your eyes and your mouth.

He kneels between your thighs, his hand now working furiously over his cock, his chest heaving through his labored breathing.

The noises that leave him are reduced to strained growls and swears, his other hand curling into your thigh and gripping until it hurts. You can only stare in awe, watching as he hunches over, a long, low groan leaving him as his cum spills over his own hand. His seed drips over his fingers, pooling in the crevices between them as he pumps himself a few more times. He leans over you, taking a few breaths before he’s pushing three fingers inside you and you gasp, back arching and hands flying up to grip at the fabric over his shoulders as the hold on you is released. 

The stretch burns and you whimper, turning your face away as he pumps his fingers into you, mixing your cum with his inside you. 

His gloved hand curls into your jaw, forcing you to face him and you groan. He pushes his thumb up your slit before he finds the bundle of nerves he’s looking for, rubbing rough circles into it that have you bucking up into his hand.

“Are you going to cum again for me?” he asks, his voice still uneven and breathless as he crooks his fingers inside of you, making you see stars.

“P-please, Commander, it’s t-too much,” you sputter awkwardly around his grip on your face, eyes watering as he forces your body to the edge too quickly. 

“You said you’d take whatever I gave you,” he snaps, thumb pressing harder into you and you whine, thighs twitching and tensing as they press into his hips, keeping them from closing. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

You swallow your saliva that’s gone thick at the back of your throat, head spinning as your body struggles to keep up with his pace. 

“No sir,” you whimper, your hand sliding down his arm to curl around his wrist as he changes his pace, fingers moving furiously against you. 

“Then cum,” he demands and your back arches, lips parting in a silent scream as everything in you pulls too tight too fast and then snaps.

Your second orgasm is almost painful, all sensation leaving you but his fingers stretching you open and his fingers curled hard into your cheeks. Tears run down your temples and into your hair as your body spasms and shakes beneath him, broken sobs and whimpers bubbling from your lips as you come back down from your high. 

He lets go of your jaw, pulling his fingers from you and the emptiness makes you wince. He leans back over you, holding his fingers, now sticky and wet with your combined release in front of your face.

“Open your mouth,” he orders and you obey, lips parting and jaw dropping open.

He presses his fingers against your tongue, forcing you to taste both yourself and him, tangy, and salty, and musky, and something you can’t quite place but very unlike anything else you’ve ever tasted before. You gag as he hits your throat but he’s unrelenting, pressing his fingers farther into your mouth. You swirl your tongue over his fingers, pressing between the digits, swallowing down a moan as another spark of warmth kindles in your core. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, pulling his fingers from your mouth with an obscene pop.

He hovers over you for another moment, both of you still trying to catch your breath.

And then he’s gone, tucking himself back into his pants and pulling his discarded glove back on. He turns back to you as you sit up, arms wobbly under your own weight as you blink at him in stunned silence.

“You’re dismissed Captain,” he says, voice level and curt as if he hadn’t just had his cum covered fingers down your throat.

You gape at him as he walks away, leaving you utterly alone as realization and guilt come crashing down around you. You force yourself up on your shaky legs, body lethargic and sore as you redress yourself. You wipe the tears and spit from your face, trying to tame your hair to look somewhat presentable.

And then you leave.

Thankfully your walk of shame is relatively short lived and private, the hallways mostly empty except for a few people passing by who pay you no mind. 

You strip as soon as you’re in your room, turning on the shower as hot as it will go and sitting under the stream. You just let the water run over you, soothing some of the aches and tension creeping into your shoulders and neck.

Kylo Ren doesn’t seem much like the type for cuddling and pillow talk so you suppose it makes sense he behaved the way he did in the end. But it was everything that he had done  _ before _ that, that made you feel like you were losing your mind. Your body ached with both pain and desire at the memory of your face pressed into the ground and his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. The words  _ good girl _ , rattling around in your brain until they don’t even seem like real words any more.

This was a first, you’d had sex before, but the filth and aggression and possessiveness of Kylo Ren was something else entirely compared to the vanilla your past experiences had been.

You groan, pressing your hands into your eyes as you try to make sense out of any of this.

Kylo Ren really is going to be the death of you, but just maybe not in the way you had thought.


	5. A Dangerous Collection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought I'd start doing this bc I did not come up with these chapter titles, so the past ones came from Charles Perrault's version of Little Red Riding Hood, and this chapter title is a poem by Nikita Gill :)
> 
> And as always, thank you so much to all of you that have left kudos and comments, it genuinely means so much and really makes my day. I appreciate you all, and hope you enjoy!

After your ‘encounter’, you go almost two weeks without so much as even hearing Kylo Ren’s name. You don’t pass him in the halls, don’t see him on the bridge, don’t get any messengers telling you he’s expecting you.

You take that as enough of a signal that, whatever had happened between you, was a one time thing and you should forget it. 

But you can’t stop thinking about it, about him. 

Your body had ached in the best possible way for days afterwards, and more often than you would like you find your mind wandering to the way his hand had felt on your skin, brushing over the inside of your thigh, fingers curling into you…

“What do you think?”

You blink up at Minne who stares expectantly back at you, her hands propped on her hips and lips pursed in defiance. You glance between her and Baize who both look like they’re waiting for a response and you silently berate yourself, your face burning red as you realize you’ve spaced out.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you admit sheepishly.

“You’ve seemed a little distracted lately, you all good?” Baize asks, a dark brow arching as he looks you over. 

“Cap’s always been a little spacey,” Tanner swoops in to save you, sweat dripping down her neck and soaking the front of her shirt. “You leave her in a quiet room too long and she checks out.”

“I’m prone to daydreaming,” you shrug, tucking a sweat soaked strand of hair behind your ear before pushing yourself off the weight bench. “I’m going to go fill up my water bottle.”

You can hear them resume their argument as you round the corner and let out a long breath. 

Going to the gym with them had seemed like a good distraction from your distraction, but apparently not.

You shove your bottle under the spout and steel yourself. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that what had happened, happened, and you need to let it go and move one.

Kylo Ren shouldn’t be able to have that much power over you without being a regular part of your life anyways. 

Except for him being your boss and all.

But dammit whatever seed he had planted had taken root fast and it’s going to be a process to remove it.

Cold engulfs your hand and you look over, watching the water overflow from your bottle and spill over your fist. You quickly jerk your hand back, swearing under your breath as you wipe your hand dry on the bottom of your shirt, and take a large sip of water so it doesn’t spill when you put the lid on. 

You pause around the corner before walking back into the gym when you hear Baize say, “Are you sure she’s alright? I mean she just always seems kind of …”

“Like she’s trapped in a dissociative episode,” Minne finishes for him and you feel your joints lock up.

“Well, she might be. I mean, I read the report, the one for the mission that got her taken off the field,” Tanner takes a deep breath, and drops her voice so you can barely hear it. “She got injured trying to save one of her comrades and then they just fucking left her, with a dead friend and a broken shoulder on an unstable planet. That’d fuck you up a little, don’t you think?”

A single drop of water rolls over your fingers, down your wrist and forearm until it drips off your elbow, splashing off the top of your sneaker.

“She said she’d been tortured, and if you had heard her answer Commander Ren’s question about torture, the way she was talking about  _ burning  _ people just the right amount to leave them in pain, it was so … empty. She’s obviously been through some shit, so maybe just lay off about her spacing out and stuff.” 

“That’s awful,” Minne’s whisper is slightly muffled, her fingers probably pressed to her lips.

“Yeah,” comes Baize’s breathless reply. 

The sound of the ice rattling against the inside of your bottle is deafening as your hands tremble. Muffled talking, metal clinking and sliding together as weights are lifted and bars put back in place, the squeak of shoes on the frictionless surface as people run laps, they’re all drowned out by your pulse beating against the inside of your skull. 

How can you bring yourself to face them again, to walk back in there and look into their eyes and pretend you don’t see their pity. You can’t stand the thought of them tiptoeing around you, biting their tongues and casting each other nervous glances, and hoping they hadn’t accidentally just said too much. You can’t stand the thought of them feeling  _ sorry  _ for you. 

You take a deep breath, fighting with the numbness you feel pushing out from your chest, trying to swallow you whole and lock you away somewhere deep inside your own head. 

Tanner’s head snaps in your direction as you walk back towards them, face splitting into the familiar, warm smile as she sees you. You smile back, setting your bottle back down and glancing between the three of them.

“So what are we doing next?” 

You had poured yourself into the rest of your work out, doing everything until your body physically wouldn’t allow you to do anymore. 

To your relief, none of them talked to you, or looked at you any different after their talk. Their teasing and lighthearted banter continued between them, and towards you and that lifts a small weight off your shoulders. But their curious glances when you would slip into a period of silence did cease, and that’s not so bad, you guess. 

Maybe Tanner had been right, maybe now they’ll stop poking and prodding and leave you to your simmering suffering in peace. 

After saying your goodbyes you had gone back to your room, showered, and slipped into your pajamas. 

You spend the rest of your evening putting together notes, and creating lesson plans, and doing as much as you can to keep your brain otherwise occupied. Even still you find your mind sometimes slipping, going back to his hand on your throat, or in your hair…

You do your best to shake the thoughts away before they can get too far.

It doesn’t make sense, this obsessiveness, he’s just a guy. You’ve been with guys casually before so why is he any different? Maybe it’s just because it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone, or had someone give you that kind of attention, but it shouldn’t matter. He’s just a man that obviously viewed you as nothing more than a means to an end, and you have more important things to think about. 

⇼

The next few days go by easily, and comfortably, until you have your Major Sorcof knocking on your door and telling you General Hux is requesting your presence in his office. 

You haven’t seen the General since the first time you had seen Kylo Ren.

Not a fond memory.

You try to keep yourself steady as you walk to his office, try to look self assured and confident as you walk up to his door, try to pretend your hands aren’t shaking as you knock. You wait for his response before stepping inside, standing to attention on the other side of his desk.

He looks you over for a moment, a slight scowl pulling his brows together as if he’s trying to place you.

“Commander Ren will be returning from Starkiller Base this evening,” he says, looking down at something on his desk disinterestedly, and you hold your breath. “He’s requested your presence at 00:00. He said it is...of utmost importance.”

Your heart kicks into overdrive, everything inside you twisting and turning as you try to keep your expression as impassive as possible.

“Did he say where I am to meet him sir?’

“The place you met last,” the inflection of his voice indicates he’s directly quoting Ren and you desperately hope so, and consequently hope Hux has no idea what that means.

“Understood sir,” a flush spreads over your cheeks but he doesn’t even look at you, rolling his eyes and waving his hand in your direction to indicate that you have been dismissed from his presence. 

Your insides twist with excitement, and anticipation as you walk back to your office. 

So, you haven’t seen or heard from him because he hasn’t even been here. Does that mean this is going to be a regular occurance? Is he just going to call on you whenever he needs a fuck? Not that you’d really complain about that if you’re being completely honest with yourself. It simplifies things that way.

If that’s even what is going on.

You have six hours to kill until you can see Kylo Ren, and you find yourself struck with the sobering fact that you are, in fact,  _ excited _ , to be in his presence. Just a month ago the thought of being alone with him had been enough to make you want to crawl out of your own skin but now, the time can’t pass fast enough. 

Your thoughts immediately go to your brother and  _ gods _ if only you could tell him about this. He’d be foaming at the mouth for gossip, but you’re sure he’d also hate you in equal parts out of envy.

It’s almost enough to make you laugh.

“Well someone looks chipper today,” Tanner states from where she stands in your office door way.

“Oh, yeah, I uh, I feel good today,” you shrug, unable to help the smile that pulls on your lips as you look up at her.

“Good for you Captain,” she nods before lowering her voice. “Baize is going to have a little party tomorrow night, you know, just chill and maybe get drunk. You in?” 

“Why not,” the words leave you before you can stop them and she beams at you.

“See ya’ then Cap,” she shoots a wink over her shoulder as she skips back out of your office. 

A party is really the last thing you want to go to, but it’s also the least of your concerns at the moment. 

You spend the next few hours just biding time.

Once you’re off the clock you go back to your room and shower, primping yourself up a bit, deciding to dress comfortably and with your hair down, because frankly, you’re not sure it matters what you’re wearing if someone sees you going to Kylo Ren’s quarters. There’s going to be rumors and questions regardless.

Unless having officers come to his room is something he does often.

But you don’t really want to think about that. 

Thankfully the halls are mostly empty on your walk to his room. Your heart beats faster with each step closer until you’re standing outside his door and it begins skipping beats all together in your chest. 

This time you let yourself in, blinking a few times to let your eyes readjust to the darkness of his living space. It’s tidier this time, almost no signs of recent life but you suppose if he’s been gone a few weeks it makes sense.

You start at the sound of footsteps, eyes widening up at him as he storms towards you. Reflexively you back up, freezing when your lower back collides with the edge of his table. He cages you between his body and the table, making you arch uncomfortably against the edge to keep your eyes on him. You can hear him breathing, heavy and fast through his helmet and your throat goes dry as he presses his solid frame harder into you.

He curls his fingers into your jaw and you gasp, going warm all over when you feel his erection press into your lower stomach.

“You created quite the problem for me over the past few weeks,” he snarls, grinding into you for emphasis and your knees nearly buckle.

“I- sir?” You blink up at him, too overwhelmed to process his statement, trying to think of something you might have done wrong while he was gone.

“Silly little girl,” he chuckles down at you, using his grip on your jaw to jerk your chin higher. 

His other hand slides up the outside of your thigh, under the waistband of your pants. He drags his fingers over the top of your underwear, abdominal muscles tensing under the touch light enough to almost tickle. You suck air in through your teeth when his hand slides lower, fingers brushing teasingly over your clothed core.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about your hot, tight little cunt, about those sweet moans and cries for me, about how as soon as I returned I’d hold you down and fucking you boneless,” he whispers, the front of his helmet so close to your face your rapid breathing fogs across the lower half of it as he begins rubbing slow, broad circles against you.

You can’t help the wobbly moan that spills from you, fingers curling harder into the edge of the table as you try to steady yourself. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” he hooks his fingers into your underwear, pushing the fabric aside so he can run his finger through your already soaking folds, the tip of his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing hard, slow circles into it. “To be fucked and filled.” 

You close your eyes, head falling back and hips rolling against his hand as heat burns through you from both pleasure and shame. 

“Look at me,” he snaps, fingers pressing harder into your jaw and you wince, groaning as his finger moves faster against your clit.

You force your eyes open, wishing you could melt into a puddle as you stare up into that lifeless helmet. The part of you that’s very much enjoying this is warring with the part of you that’s still cognizant enough to feel shame. Shouldn’t you be pushing him away, trying to make him stop, making at least  _ some _ effort to resist him? Shouldn’t you be appalled, or upset, or feel anything other than this burning want? 

“Let go,” he growls. “Give in to it, I can feel how much you want it. To be completely, and utterly used, like my own, personal toy.” 

He pushes a leather clad finger inside you and you cry out, body jerking forward, fingers gripping at whatever part of him you can grab to keep yourself upright. 

“P-please,” you sputter, hating how wrecked you already sound as you moan, head lolling forward. 

“Please what?” He lifts your face back up to his as he curls his finger inside you, making your toes curl and your walls contract around him. “Say it.”

You grit your teeth, letting out a defeated whimper as you let yourself press farther into his touch. 

“Use me, I want you to use me,” you gasp, digging your fingers harder into his forearms. “Please Kylo.”

As soon as his name passes your lips you feel yourself go cold, heart stuttering to a stop inside your chest as the air sticks in your lungs, suddenly too heavy for you to force back out. You stare up at his hidden face, mortified, afraid.

He pulls away from you, and then is wheeling you around, his hand curling around the back of your neck and slamming your upper body flat against the top of the table. 

You wheeze, the air knocked from your lungs, cheekbone stinging from its contact with the hard surface. There’s no time to process that he’s pulled your pants and underwear off before he’s leaning over you, pressing into your back, his hard, hot length sliding between your thighs. 

His fingers curl into your hips and you hear him take a deep breath before thrusting into you, burying himself inside you in one smooth motion.

You shout, body trembling against the burn of him stretching you open, walls fluttering and spasming against the rough intrusion. He’s  _ definitely _ bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with, and gods you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly full.

“Fuck, I didn’t give you permission to call me that,” he snarls, slowly pulling out of you before thrusting hard back into you, knocking your hips painfully against the edge of the table, forcing another sharp sound from you.

“I’m s-sorry sir,” you force out , broken and desperate as he picks up his pace, hips moving harder and faster against yours.

“What am I to you?” he hisses, his hand curling in your hair and pulling, forcing your chest off the table as you arch your back, barely catching yourself on your elbows.

“Commander!” You wail, this new angle allowing him to push even deeper into you and your head spins.

His pace is ruthless, but the drag of his thick cock along your walls is the closest thing you’ve ever felt to perfection, the spots he’s reaching inside of you making your eyes roll back and obscene, desperate sounds tear from your chest. You can’t catch your breath, spit running from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin, the slick sound of him sliding in and out of you filling the room.

“And what are you?” He pulls harder on your hair, forcing you almost completely upright, his grip on your hips keeping your back arched as he presses the front of his helmet against the side of your face.

“Y-your toy, to fuck and f-ah-fill and u-use however you want sir,” you choke out, fingers wrapping around his wrist to ground yourself to something as he trades his grip on your hair to hold your face, palm pressing into your chin, thumb and index finger curling into your cheekbones. 

“That’s right, I’m going to fucking ruin this tight little pussy,” he grunts, the hand on your hip shifting between your legs, rubbing lazy circles against your aching clit. 

You let out a sob, body jerking against the touch, everything in you tensing and curling inward as you shake in his grasp. Your legs nearly give out beneath you, toes curling and thighs twitching as he brings you to the edge of release. 

“You like this? Like getting split open on my cock? Like getting fucked like a little whore?” His voice is strained, gravely and low against your ear, all control lost as he ruts into you like an animal. 

“Oh- fuck, yes sir,” you groan, eyes watering as everything in you pulls tighter and tighter, teetering on the edge of snapping. “Feels s-so good sir, please. I’m ah- so close.”

“That’s my good girl,” he rubs harder, faster circles against you and if it weren’t for his iron grip you would have doubled over, lungs deflating as sparks dance across your nerve endings. “Let me feel that pretty little cunt cum on my cock.”

Your nails dig into his wrist, teeth sinking into the leather of his glove as you come undone, body spasming and walls clenching, a guttural sound barely making its way up your throat, tears catching in your lashes and pooling under your eyes. He moans behind you, pushing your torso flat against the table as he thrusts into you a few more times before spilling inside you, fingers digging in and dragging over the tops of your thighs. 

You’re throats gone so dry you can barely swallow, chest still heaving and heart racing as you try to collect yourself. 

He runs a finger down the length of your spine through the fabric of your shirt, smoothing his hand over the small of your back before he pulls out of you. 

You grimace, pressing your face into your arm at the achy emptiness you already feel and stars are you going to be sore tomorrow. He stays behind you, keeping his hand against your hip until he sees his seed leak out of you, trickling down your inner thigh and you do your best not to squirm against the sensation.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling your underwear and pants back over your hips and your face burns at the thought of having to walk back to your room with him leaking out of you into your already wet and sticky underwear.

His hands linger on your hips for just a moment, thumbs brushing over your skin, and then he pulls away.

Once you feel steady enough you push yourself upright, thighs still twitching and shaky beneath you. You smooth out the fabric of your shirt and run your fingers through your hair, sniffling and wiping your face before turning to face him.

He’s still watching you, once more looking as statuesque and unfazed as ever. If only you could see his eyes, just enough to make you feel a little bit less like you’re in the presence of something  _ other _ and more in the presence of a man. Even if he’s still an incredibly intimidating and powerful man.

“Come back tomorrow, same time,” he says and you bite down on your lower lip, panic bubbling up your throat.

“I … I have plans tomorrow night, sir,” you hold your breath, waiting for him to advance, to feel the suffocating atmosphere of the Force, for him to reprimand you.

But all he says is, “I see.”

You blink at him, wondering if you’d just blown any chance of being able to continue, whatever this is. 

“I’ll send for you then,” he states. “To let you know when you may return.”

“O-oh, yes sir,” you clear your throat, pushing a hand through your hair. “Um, have a good night, sir.”

And before he, or you, can say anything else, you flee. 


	6. A Dying Breed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short one with a little character and plot building, no smut this time, so if that's what you're here for there will be more soon.
> 
> As always thank you guys so much for reading, and your comments and kudos! They keep me going :)
> 
> Hope everyone's doing well and staying safe!

There are bruises over both your hip bones, scattered across your thighs, hidden under a careful layer of makeup along your jaw, and there’s a dull but persistent ache between your thighs. 

It’s the best you’ve felt in months. 

You had woken from a solid, dreamless sleep, body worn but relaxed and refreshed. For a moment you think about bailing on Baize’s party, and instead spending the evening with Kylo but you know that’s a bad idea for several reasons. Plus you don’t even know how you would get that message to him. 

You spend the day in a meeting with Major Sorcof about trying to change up the layout of your course to involve some more physical aspects and ways to allow them to get hands on instead of it all being conceptual. Plus you feel like you’re hitting a wall with this fucking course, there’s only so much you can say about what it’s like to be a captive and how to prepare to handle a captive.

None of them will ever really understand.

You can talk until you’re blue in the face about the fear that settles into you, having to look into the face of someone who is going to hurt you and truly accepting the fact that you will suffer, and that is your only option, the sheer will you have to have to make it out, and how none of them will ever have a belief in their cause as strong as the Resistance fighters they're capturing but it still wouldn’t be enough to make them get it. 

There’s no real risk for them, they will never be on the other side.

But you can try your best.

“We’ll make the arrangements for an open training room, that’ll allow you a week on concept and a week on practical,” Sorcof tells you after looking over your proposal and working out the logistics with timing and locations.

“That’s perfect, thank you sir,” you stand from your seat as he does, gathering up your things off his desk.

“Captain,” you pause, looking up to meet his scowl, those massive eyebrows bunching together into one. “That Tanner girl, she’s not RRE is she?”

“No sir,” you straighten, tucking your datapad under your arm. “She's administration, she makes sure all our paperwork and reports are airtight and pretty for the big bosses.”

He huffs, more of a barking kind of cough than a laugh, “I knew she had a little too much pep in her. Some of these kids have no idea what it’s like out there.”

“We’re a dying breed Major,” you smile wryly at him and he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m not so convinced we aren’t already dead Captain.” 

⇼

Turns out, Baize’s idea of a party is him, Minne, Tanner, and you all sitting on the floor in his room, listening to music, and getting too drunk to walk straight.

That’s fine by you.

“This is what we used to do in the Academy, I’d get my brother to smuggle me alcohol and if anyone came by to see what we were doing, we were always studying,” Minne giggles, cheeks gone red from drinking.

“ _ Always _ , honestly the amount we ‘studied’ is suspicious in hindsight,” Tanner lays face up on his bed, head hanging slightly over the edge.

“They don’t care, could have told them you were constructing a shine to the Supreme Leader and they’d accept it,” Baize snorts.

You trace patterns in the condensation of your glass as they talk, allowing yourself to fully lean into the warm, slow, weightless feeling the alcohol is giving you. You can’t remember the last time you were really drunk, it feels like lifetimes ago. It doesn’t seem quite right that you haven’t in fact existed in this galaxy for hundreds of years already, there’s no way you’re only a few years older than the people sitting in front of you.

“You don’t talk about your time in the Academy much,” Minne directs the statement at you, idly twisting a dark strand of hair around her finger.

“We had different experiences, mine isn’t quite as fun or exciting to reminisce on,” you shrug. “Plus I went the same time as my brother who’s a total kiss ass, and he would have throttled me if I made him look bad by association.”

“You have a brother?” Tanner rolls onto her stomach, a delicate brow arching down at you and you sigh. 

“He’s a pain in my ass but I do kind of miss him, plus he’s Commander Ren’s biggest fan. I wish he was here just so I could really rub it in his face,” you chuckle.

“Rub what in his face?” Baize asks and you freeze, wading through the fog of your mind to try and come up with something to cover that up.

“That Ren hand picked me for this position here, and brought me here personally. He was livid,” you stumble through it but it seems convincing enough, Baize and Minne exchanging looks of surprise. 

Just saying his name makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip, phantom pleasure and pain crawling across your skin at the thought of him. You press your damp palm to your cheek, feeling your face burn beneath your hand. You wish you could douse yourself in the cold water, the unpleasant sensation of burning from the inside out growing more prominent with each passing second.

“You alright?” Baize asks, leaning forward and reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of your face with surprising tenderness. “You’re not gonna throw up are you?” 

“No, no, just a little warm,” you assure him as he frowns at you, for the first time realizing how green his eyes really are. “I think I’m going to call it a night though, I do need to be able to function in the morning.”

You sway a bit on the way to your feet, but once they’re under you, you feel steady enough. 

“I’ll walk you back,” Baize stands far faster than you, and looking far more sober than you currently feel.

“It’s like a ten minute walk, you don’t need to do that,” you scoff, fumbling around for a moment as you try to push your feet into your shoes. 

“It’d make me feel better if I do,” he shrugs, reaching out and grabbing your elbow to help you balance. “I’ll be back ladies, pray for our safe travels.”

“Yeah, do be careful out there,” Minne rolls her eyes and Tanner chuckles, the two girls bidding you goodbye and goodnight as you leave.

Baize walks beside you, hands tucked in his pockets, shortening his strides to keep pace with you and your shorter legs. You clear your throat, tugging slightly on the collar of your shirt, wishing it wasn’t currently so damn hot. The halls are empty, which makes sense considering how early in the morning it is, letting your obnoxiously heavy footfalls echo endlessly off the walls. 

“So,” you turn your head as he drawls out the word. “Did you just think we weren’t going to notice that there are bruises on your face again?” 

Your heart stops, hand immediately flying up to press over where you’re sure you had covered with makeup. They’re small and shallow bruises, the kind that will most likely be gone in a couple days, but you suppose bruises on your face are still a bit worrisome. 

“It’s not what you think,” you breathe, turning to look up at him and he raises his eyebrows, lips twitching.

“I never said what I thought it was,” he whispers and you swallow, glancing down at your hands. “Look, it’s really not any of my business but Minne was worried. As long as you’re not in trouble or anything, I’ll leave it be.”

“I’m fine, promise,” you assure him, meeting his gaze and hoping the eye contact will support your sincerity. 

“Alright, but seriously,” he places a finger against your chin, gently turning your head to look at the spaced out marks, “whoever he is, tell him to chill.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself from laughing at the image of looking Kylo Ren in the helmet and saying, ‘dude chill’. 

“I thought you said it’s not your business,” you roll your eyes, gently swatting his hand away.

You turn at the sound of footsteps, your heart launching into your throat and your lungs turning to lead when you spot a familiar, dramatic dark silhouette walking straight for you. Reflexively you take several steps away from Baize, your head spinning slightly at the too quick movement and you stumble. 

A leather clad glove curls around your bicep to hold you upright. You wince, keeping your eyes level with his chest. You’re positive he can hear your heart beating. 

“So glad to see my officers making such valuable use of their time,” he spits and you gulp, not daring to even look Baize’s way. 

Your mind whirls, fighting with the need you feel to explain or defend yourself, to let him know you hadn’t been doing anything wrong, or planning on doing anything wrong. You don’t even know what  _ wrong _ is. Something he doesn’t like? Something that upsets him? Whatever it is, you hadn’t been doing it and you wouldn’t. 

He makes a sound so low in his throat you barely hear it, and then he lets you go, brushing past you and continuing on his way.

You let out the air bubbled in your chest, collapsing against the wall behind you with a dull thud. You finally look up at Baize, his brows furrowed together and jaw clenched and offset as he stares at Kylo’s back. 

“What a dick, you weren’t joking he really does have it out for you,” Baize breathes, glancing back at you as you do your best to slow your heart back down. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assure him, pushing off the wall. “I can um, make it the rest of the way now.”

“You sure?” He frowns.

“Yeah, go enjoy Minne and Tanner’s company,” you wave a hand in the direction Kylo had gone. “I’m safe now.”

He stares at you for a moment, brows still pulled low over his eyes but you can see him cave. Something about the way his shoulders drop and the long breath he lets out of his nose. Then he nods, tucking his hands back into his pockets.

“Ok, ok, goodnight Captain,” he gives you a lazy salute before turning on his heel and walking back the way you had come. 

You take a deep breath before turning and finishing the walk back to your room, face burning and heart racing.


	7. Tell Me That You Crave the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Kristina Haynes, Reassurance to Hades :)
> 
> Since there was no smut in the last chapter, this chapter is nothing but smut! Also reader and Kylo are just awkward little babs around any forms of intimacy that isn't physical and there's nothing you can do to make me change my mind about it.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

You had been stopped on your way to your office, given a message that Commander Ren wishes to see you immediately. 

So now you’re walking to Kylo Ren’s quarters in the middle of the morning, trying to ignore the looks you get as you pass by. Your hands are shaking and your skin has been absolutely burning since you had spoken to the messenger. You try to keep your chin high and look confident as you walk, like you aren’t walking towards your Commander’s room to more than likely get your guts rearranged.

Thankfully the farther you walk the less populated the hallways get until you’re finally alone. You let yourself collapse a little, nerves breaking through your carefully crafted facade as you finally escape their stares.

You stop before his door, curling your fingers into your palms, cracking your knuckles as you stare at the metal. 

There’s no way to prepare yourself for what you’ll get when you walk through the door, no way of knowing how angry he’ll be, how fast he’ll come at you, how rough. So you just try to brace yourself and step forward.

He’s nowhere to be seen, there’s a cup on the table and a datapad with light softly glowing from it.

Everything in you tells you to stay exactly where you are, but you take a slow step towards the table, just close enough to see what’s on the screen...

The sound of footsteps makes you take a quick step back, and your world tilts, everything in you blanking as you look at the man standing before you. His hair is damp, and so dark it’s almost black, framing his pale, sharp face in loose waves hanging down to his shoulders, his lips are full and pink, and his eyes are dark and full of so much sadness and hate you feel like you might drown in them. 

“Commander?” The word hardly leaves you as a breath, so little force behind it you’re not sure he even hears it.

He crosses the space between you with long, purposeful strides, his bare hand reaching up to press under your chin, tilting your face up to him. 

“Something wrong?” His non modulated voice is smooth, and low, and so much softer sounding and it makes you tremble. 

You can’t stop looking at him, can’t stop the way your eyes flicker over every one of his features over, and over again because how can this be him. How can the man standing before you really be Kylo Ren? 

He’s  _ stunning _ . 

“I-I, you..” you try but you can’t make anything else come out, your brain consumed by him and completely void of anything else.

“If I had known I’d have this affect on you, I would have shown you my face sooner,” his eyes pull away from yours, settling on your mouth as he tugs on your bottom lip with his thumb before letting it bounce back up against your teeth.

His eyes are dark and empty, yet there’s a fire and a hunger there at the same time as they flicker back up to yours and you still can’t make any sense of it.

“Did you have fun last night little girl?” His voice is just a whisper now as he leans closer to you, his hand sliding around the back of your neck, pressing into your scalp to pull you to meet him.

And then he’s kissing you, lips insistent and aggressive yet controlled, and it feels like everything has frozen in space. His lips are soft and warm, and when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs you gasp. His tongue drags across the inside of your top lip and you meet him halfway. He groans, his arm looping around your waist to crush you against him. He’s unrelenting, tongue fighting yours back into your own mouth, making you feel dizzy as your lungs burn for air and you curl your fingers into his shirt to steady yourself. 

His hands curl under your thighs, lifting them around his waist and you let out a small sound of surprise as he lifts you, arms looping around his neck to help steady yourself. He backs you into a wall and you hook your ankles behind his back to help support your weight, gasping for air as you look up at him.

“I should have taken you right then and there, right in front of that  _ boy _ ,” he growls, eyes dark and lust heavy, red painted across his cheeks. “I should have made him watch, should have made sure he knows who you belong to.”

You shake your head, eyelids fluttering as he attacks your jaw, mouthing at your skin in heavy, hot, wet kisses. He sucks at the side of your neck and you sigh, hips rolling against his, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. 

“You wouldn’t like that? Wouldn’t like your friend hearing you moan and beg for me while I fuck you?” He pants, smoothing his tongue over the mark he’s left on your skin.

“N-no sir,” you whimper, stomach flipping and panic settling in your chest just at the thought of it, of what he would think of you.

He leans into you, and you squirm against him as he presses his lips right against your ear so you feel every brush of his lips and breath as he whispers, “he would have liked it.”

Your heart bangs against your chest hard enough to reverberate through your entire body as you stare wide eyed up at him. Is it true? Had he seen that in Baize’s head or is he just making it up to get to you? Does Baize really … think of you like that?

“Often,” he answers, reaching one hand up to press under your chin, tilting your head almost all the way back. “Ever since he saw the bruises I left on you. He thinks about how they got there, how you must have been held, fingers curling into your face as you’re fucked from behind, forced to take a cock down that pretty little throat, wonders what other bruises you might have.”

You swallow, trying to sort through everything in your brain to figure out exactly how that makes you feel but you just feel shock … maybe a bit of betrayal, perhaps a bit of curiosity. 

“You are … surprisingly naive,” he says, the slightest lilt of amusement in his voice before his mouth is crashing back against yours. 

You let thoughts of anything else be pushed to the back of your mind to be dealt with later as he carries you into his room, sitting you on the foot of his bed.

You blink up at him, chest heaving as he stares down at you. His lips are kiss swollen and red and his eyes are burning with something so intense it almost scares you. You feel small beneath it, unable to comprehend anything close to  _ feeling _ that much. 

He reaches down, pulling his cock, already hard and leaking, from his pants, pumping himself a few times and you lick your lips.

“Suck it,” he orders, fingers curling into your hair and pulling your face closer to him. “And keep your hands where they are, or I’ll make them stay there.”

Your stomach clenches, thighs twitching and you nod, curling your fingers into the sheets next to your thighs. 

You lean as far forward as you can with his grip on your hair, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, swirling it around the head, pressing into the slit to taste the salty precum leaking from it. 

He snarls, pulling just enough on your hair to make your scalp sting and you groan.

“Don’t tease, unless you just want me to fuck your throat without letting you suck it first,” he snaps and you shudder, curling your fingers harder into the sheets as your walls flutter and clench around nothing.

“Naughty girl,” he smirks, thrusting his hips forward, pushing the head of his cock past your lips. “That’s all you are, a hole for my cock.”

You moan as he pushes farther into your mouth, hitting your throat and you do your best to swallow around him, eyes watering as you try not to gag. You curl your lips around him, sucking as he pulls out before thrusting back into your mouth, again and again until he’s pushing himself down your throat, pressing your nose into his abdomen. Reflexively your hands reach for his hips, pushing against them as you gag, throat convulsing around him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, giving a few slow, shallow thrusts into your throat before your hands are forced down, arms pinned to your sides. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you want to be punished.”

You whimper, trying to remember to breathe through your nose as he pulses and twitches against your tongue, his size causing your jaw and lips to stretch uncomfortably around him. You glance up at him with watery eyes, and he groans, giving another tug on your hair before he begins fucking into your mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut, doing your best to swallow back against your gag reflex, thighs tensing and pressing together as a familiar need works its way between your legs. There’s spit running from the corners of your mouth, and after one more gag as he hits the back of your throat there are tears running down your cheeks. 

“So fucking needy, so eager to be used and fucked by me,” he growls, a low moan rumbling through his chest that has your core aching. “So eager to show me what a good little girl you are for me.” 

He pulls himself from your mouth and you gasp, coughing and blinking tears from your eyes, jaw sore and lips stretched to nearly cracking in the corners. 

“Look at you,” he lets go of your hair, the hold on your arms giving way as his hand cups your cheek, thumb dragging over your swollen lips. “Beautiful.”

The word makes your heart sutter, head going light and you barely realize he’s unbuttoned your shirt until he’s pushing it off your shoulders. You help him strip you of the rest of your clothes before letting him push you farther up onto the bed. He crawls over you, once more entrapping you in that predatory stare. 

His fingers trail up the outside of your leg, over your hip, up your side, curling around your breast, watching the way the flesh gives and molds against his hand. He takes you in, eyes dancing across your exposed skin, settling briefly on your scar. You turn your face away as it burns, fingernails pressing into your palms. 

“Don’t,” he orders, turning your face back towards him. “Don’t you look away from me.” 

“Yes sir,” you breathe, voice small and weak sounding in your own ears.

Then he’s kissing you again, hard and hungry, tongue chasing after yours, teeth sinking into your lips. You hesitate before reaching up, letting your fingers card through his hair. It’s thick but soft, tickling against your palms as you curl it around your fingers. You don’t pull, just hold, not daring to do much else in case this is all he’ll allow as his mouth moves over your jaw, down your throat.

He nips and sucks more marks into your skin, moving over your collarbones, between your breasts, across your ribs, down your stomach, over your hip bones before his head is settled between your thighs and your heart kicks into overdrive. The sight of his face, all dark and burning between your thighs is enough to have you biting back a whimper. 

His eyes never leave you as he kisses down the inside of your thigh, sinking his teeth into the meatiest part of your leg, making you squirm. He curls his fingers into your hips, not even blinking as he pushes his tongue through your folds, warm and wet as it brushes over your clit and you moan. He takes his time, tongue moving slow against you, pushing into you, tasting you, watching the way your abdominal muscles spasm and thighs twitch against the side of his head. 

When he drags his tongue up to your clit, rubbing hard and slow against you, your eyes roll back, hips jerking against him. He easily keeps you pinned to the mattress, leaving you helpless to him and his torturous pace.

“S-sir, please,” you sputter, fingers curling into the sheets and you try in vain to push your hips closer to him.

He hums against you, nuzzling into you and sucking at your aching bundle of nerves. Everything in you tenses, pulled inward at the sensation of the warm, wet pressure and you gasp, pressing your head back into the pillow as your thighs begin to tremble.

“Oh,  _ stars _ , please don’t stop,” you pant, grip tightening on the sheet until it hurts, rubbing over your knuckles until you’re sure they’re raw.

And he moans, his own eyes closing for a moment as he laps at you with a new fervor, filthy wet sounds filling the room as his fingers press hard enough into your skin to leave new bruises. 

There’s that increasingly familiar tightness in your core, twisting in your lower stomach, making everything in you feel like it’s collapsing in on itself as you try to catch your breath. He curls his lips around your clit and sucks one more time and you’re gone, thighs squeezing against the side of his head, back arching and body trembling through your orgasm. 

You groan, fingers pressing into his hair as he continues eating you out like a man starved, body approaching over-sensitivity as you spasm and shake through your aftershocks. 

“Ky-Commander, w-wait, that’s-too-fuck,” you cry out, writhing beneath him, hands scrambling both to push him away from you and pull yourself away from him as he forces the aftershocks into a second orgasm too quickly for your body to keep up with. 

He finally pulls away from you, palms smoothing down the insides of your quaking thighs as you gasp and whimper, trying to force your muscles to relax. 

He crawls back over you, caging your body beneath him, watching as your breathing finally begins to level out. His weight on top of you, pressing just slightly into you is comforting, grounding, helping you relax more beneath him. 

“So good for me,” he mutters, thumb brushing over your cheek before kissing you.

You can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer, to mold yourself around him until you become inseparable. 

His hand brushes against your inner thigh as he guides his cock to your entrance, keeping his lips on yours as he pushes into you in one, smooth motion.

You sigh into him, turning away enough to breathe as he rocks his hips into you, leaving you very little time to adjust to the stretch of him inside you. His pace is unforgiving from the start, making your toes curl and your mouth hang open as the sound of his hips smacking against yours intermingles with your moans and cries. 

“Shit,” he hisses, holding himself up on his elbows, one of his hands curling around your throat. “Such a tight cunt, but you like it. You like how it feels when I fucking tear you open.”

“Yes sir, I-I do,” you push your fingers under the fabric of his shirt, the skin of his back smooth, muscles strong and solid under your palms as you reach for his shoulders. “You fuck me so good Commander.”

He grunts, squeezing your throat just enough for his face to go fuzzy above you and you moan, that warmth pooling low in your belly once more. 

He’s a haze of dark hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, face burning red, eyes darkened and glazed with want, lips swollen and twitching as he ruts into you. He’s beautiful in a dark, overwhelming way and you never want to see him in that damn helmet again. Not now that you know this is what he’s hiding beneath it. 

You reach up without thinking, palm pressing to his cheek, thumb dragging over his lips, mirroring the way he had touched you earlier. He lets you, eyes never leaving yours as you push your thumb past his lips. A tight sound leaves him as he bites down on the pad of your thumb, scraping his teeth over it hard enough to burn. 

“What are you?” His voice is uneven and hoarse, catching slightly at the end with a particularly hard thrust into you and you whimper.

“Yours,” you gasp when he loosens his hold on your throat. “Your toy, your -ah- your whore, whatever the fuck y-you want. I’m yours.”

“Good,” he breathes, hand squeezing around your throat again as he presses his mouth to your ear. “Now cum for me so I can fucking fill you up.”

His hips snap harder and faster into you, nearly knocking the wind from you before you finally release it in a shout. You curl your fingers into his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and he hisses, fucking you harder as you arch against him.

You scream as your third orgasm tears through you, muscles easily sent into another flurry of spasms and your walls clench around him, hands clinging to him and thighs squeezing against his hips as if you’ll be ripped away from him if you don’t cling to him like your life depends on it. 

“Fuck,” he spits, pressing his face into your neck, teeth sinking into your shoulder hard enough to make you wince as he cums inside you. 

You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath and holding onto one another. He pushes himself up just enough to look down at you, the want in his eyes has subsided, leaving them full of that all consuming sadness, his face still a light shade of pink.

He pulls away from you, walking out of the room without so much as another word and you push yourself upright, prepared to leave just like you had before.

You pause as he walks back into the room, he’d cleaned himself up, tucked himself back into his pants and despite looking like he’d maybe exerted a little physical effort, looks relatively put together. The bastard, you feel like an absolute mess, and you’re sure you can only look like one too.

“If you want, you can use the shower before going back to work,” he tells you. 

“Oh,” you blink up at him, clearing your throat as you shift. “Ok, thanks.”

He slips into his robes as you move carefully to the edge of the bed, slowly standing on unsteady legs.

“I have to leave,” he says suddenly and you watch as he turns, helmet tucked under his arm.

It strikes you again how  _ human _ he is, staring up at him like this, all the passion burned away and leaving behind an uncomfortable unfamiliarity.

“Ok,” you nod, curling your arms around your middle as if to hide, a hand reaching up to rest over your shoulder.

“Come back tomorrow night,” He says, then his top lip twitches slightly. “Unless you have more plans.”

“No sir, I mean, I don’t have any plans sir,” you fumble. “I’ll be here sir.”

“Good,” he nods before placing his helmet over his head, lifeless and cold but it doesn’t strike the same fear into you now that you know what’s beneath it. 

He pauses long enough you think he might say something else, but instead he turns, leaving you standing alone in his room, cum leaking down the insides of your thighs.


	8. Stars, Hide Your Fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this chapter has taken me so long, I'm not sure why but I just had a really hard time with this one, and I'm still not thrilled with it but I feel like this is the best it'll get :/ 
> 
> Again an extra big thank you to all of you reading, and all your support up to this point, you guys are the best :)
> 
> (also chapter title is a line from Macbeth)

You had used Kylo’s shower, slipped back into your uniform, and gone to work like nothing had happened. You stood in front of your class and talked like your legs weren’t still trembling, and like you had not in fact had a dick in you less than half an hour ago. He had been merciful in that the hickies he’d left on your neck are low enough for the collar of your shirt to cover. You can only imagine the way people are going to talk just from seeing you go in and out of his quarters, you don’t need to add extra fuel to that fire.

“Hey,” Tanner approaches you after class, voice low and eyes concerned. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you blink at her, hoping she doesn’t notice your body's betrayal as you flush. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well Baize told us about your run in with the Commander last night,” she glances over your shoulder, and lowers her voice. “And then I heard you were called to his room this morning. Are you in trouble?”

“No, no he just, um,” you clear your throat and shrug. “He just wanted to let me know he was displeased with my behavior, especially as the higher ranking officer.”

“It’s not like you guys were even doing anything wrong,” she scowls, shaking her head. “I don’t get what his deal is.”

“Look, don’t worry about it I promise I’m fine,” you try to sound as flippant about it as possible. “He probably just needed someone to yell at.”

She holds your gaze, a frown still twisting her features and giving you a look that very strongly suggests she’s not so convinced but she finally sighs and says, “Alright. I was going to grab lunch with Baize and Minne, you want to come or do you have work to catch up on?” 

“No, I can go. It’d probably be good to make sure Baize knows I’m ok,” you tell her and she nods.

It’s a relatively quiet walk to the dining hall. Tanner will bring up a topic before letting it trail off, then trying to bring up something else but it’s obvious she’s distracted. She keeps fidgeting with her hands and it seems like that pull between her brows is a permanent part of her features now. But you’re not brave enough to push, or question so you leave it be.

As soon as you step into the dining hall you feel eyes on you and turn, your stomach dropping when your gaze locks with Rix’s. He’s sitting with Derek and the mouse looking woman that had brought you to Kylo’s room the first time. He holds your gaze, teeth flashing in a wicked smirk and you feel your blood go cold. You force yourself to look away and follow Tanner, unable to help the sudden anxiety that crawls up the back of your throat.

“I think you’re the only person to ever have as many brushes with Kylo Ren as you have and still be alive,” Minne greets as you and Tanner take your seats. 

“He’s decided I’m worth keeping around for whatever reason,” you shrug as you lower yourself into the seat across from Baize.

You refuse to believe what Kylo had said about him, instead convinced he had only said what he had about Baize to get a rise or reaction out of you. Besides, you’re almost positive he’s at least a little into Minne.

“I came to check on you this morning and was told you were in a meeting with Commander Ren,” he frowns at you. 

“It’s no big deal,” you wave away his concern before he can really start, trying to maintain the unbothered attitude you’d had with Tanner. “I’m alive, right?”

“Well, yeah,” he scowls, eyes shifting to meet Tanner’s gaze and you just catch her shaking her head in your periphery. 

“So, how hung-over were you this morning?” You direct the question at Minne and she groans, pressing her face into her hands.

“I still have a headache honestly, you were smart for calling it quits early,” she picks at a piece of food, pushing it across her tray. “And knowing how to pace yourself.”

“Yeah well take some notes, your liver will only tolerate so much abuse,” Baize quips back before nudging her glass of water closer to her hand. “And drink some more of that.”

She rolls her eyes but takes the cup and brings it to her lips, downing a couple swallows before looking dejectedly back down at her food. 

“Oh, Major Sorcof sent me the new plans for the course, I’m supposed to get a rough outline of the physical training to submit,” Tanner looks over at you, chewing on her lower lip. “I was supposed to talk to you about it this morning but, well, you know.”

“No worries, I’ll get them to you by tonight,” you assure her and a little bit of the tension finally eases from her face.

“Physical training?” Baize raises a brow and you nod, staring down at your palms.

“It’s um … it’s hard to make people understand how someone might react to certain forms of torture if they’ve never expereinced it,” you curl your fingers into fists, pressing your nails into your palms until it aches. “You can’t really teach people desperation if they’ve never felt it.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that makes you regret saying anything at all. You can feel them all looking at you, can practically hear their brains turning as they try to come up with something appropriate to say in response. Not that you can blame them, you’re not sure how you’d respond to that either.

“You’re going to … torture them?” Tanner finally breaks the silence, her voice a little more than a whisper.

“No, not really. But they need to know what it feels like to be caught, to feel trapped,” you let your fingers relax and stare at the crescent shaped marks left in your skin. “It’ll all be psychological, no one will be physically hurt.”

“Well, that’s the biggest part of it isn’t it? The psychological,” you glance up more out of surprise than anything when Baize speaks. “You can break someone without even touching them if you know how to get in their head.”

Your stomach clenches, feeling like a rock as your throat goes dry. Your thoughts immediately go to Kylo, to how he knows exactly what’s going on inside your head almost before you do, to how easily he could seriously mess with someone’s head if he really wanted to. How easily he could mess with yours.

“Yeah, mind over body,” you breathe, letting your eyes fall back to your now mostly empty tray of food.

“Well, well,” you recognize the voice before he sits beside you, keeping your eyes on everyone else's as theirs drift to him. “Long time no see, Captain.”

Your heart is beating in your throat, every pulse feels like it’s closing your airway and you hope no one notices the way your breath catches when you try to breathe in through your nose.

“What do you want Rix?” You finally turn to look at him and he smiles, something dark and warning in his eyes and you’re afraid you might throw your lunch right back up in his lap. 

“We didn’t technically get to finish our conversation that night we met,” his eyes drag over you before flickering back to yours and you bite down hard enough on your back teeth to hurt. “And I’ve heard Commander Ren has been keeping you occupied ever since. So I thought I’d steal my chance.”

You can’t help the tremor that runs down your spine, unsure if it’s anger or fear that bubbles up your chest and burns your throat. 

“I think you should walk away,” you breathe.

“And why is that? You not want your friends to know what you’ve been up to?” He shifts his body more towards you, head tilting to the side.

“Careful,” you spit and his brows shoot up, jaw falling slightly open before he lets out a bark of a laugh.

“What are you going to do about it?” He leans forward, eyes gleaming as he whispers. “You gonna sic your boyfriend on me?”

It’s a knee jerk reaction, your arm swinging and your elbow connecting with his nose. The force sends him backwards out of the chair and a sudden silence fills the room when he hits the ground. Blood drips through his fingers as he grips his face, his eyes watery and burning as he glares up at you.

“You fucking bitch,” he spits, sending sprays of blood splattering on the floor, the fabric of his pants, your boots.

“You were obviously never taught how to mind your own business,” you snap, standing before he can get back on his feet. “So here’s your lesson, keep your nose out of my shit, and shut the fuck up.” 

He stands, letting his hand drop to his side. Blood covers almost his entire mouth and chin, it’s smeared over the bottom and tip of his nose.

“I’ll remember this,” his voice is soft, but there is death in his eyes as he looks at you and you keep your body tense to stop it from shaking.

“I would sure hope so,” you say through gritted teeth. “Otherwise this will have been a giant waste of my time.” 

He lurches forward but there are arms wrapping around him, holding him back before he can reach you. 

“Man, stop. Let’s just go,” Derek easily keeps Rix restrained, his eyes briefly meeting yours before landing anywhere else.

Rix snarls before letting himself be led away, leaving you standing over a puddle of blood in a full but silent room.

“Are- are you ok?” Tanner asks, her hand landing lightly on your forearm.

“I’m going to work on those class plans,” you breathe, grabbing your tray and walking away without looking back to see any of their faces. 

⇼

“You broke his nose,” Kylo watches you pace back and forth across his room from where he sits at the foot of his bed.

“He’s a dick, I should have knocked some of his teeth out too,” you grumble, pushing your hands through your hair and forcing your feet to stop moving.

“Are you so upset by the idea of someone knowing about us?” He asks and you turn to look at him.

His posture is relaxed, shoulders slightly slumped, elbows resting on his knees and hands folded in front of him, his head just slightly tilted. Like he’s genuinely just curious, and your answer will have no impact on him one way or the other.

“I-I don’t care if people know what we’re doing, but someone trying to hold it over my head like it’s blackmail, fuck that,” you breathe.

He stares at you for a moment, as if he’s just taking in what you had said, and maybe more but you actively try not to think about that. 

“His superior officer let General Hux know he’s displeased with your conduct, disciplinary action will have to be taken,” Kylo pauses before adding. “Official disciplinary action.”

“Ok,” you had been expecting it, and you suppose it’s fair, you had been the one that struck him after all. “What’s my punishment?”

“Hux has decided on a short suspension.”

“That’s all?” You blink at him, and you swear he almost smiles, just the slightest twitch of his upper lip.

“He believes it’s too much of a petty waste of time to give it any more attention than that,” he explains. “I agree.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, feeling yourself release some of the tension you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in your shoulders. 

He stands, crossing the room before stopping before you, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. His fingers brush over your jaw before his palm rests against your cheek, his eyes shifting between yours. It’s still odd to be this close to him, and to be able to look into his eyes when they aren’t dark and heavy and you realize how light they really are, an almost green tone to the outer ring of his iris. There’s almost a warmth to them that makes your chest feel heavy.

“Wouldn’t it … bother you if people know you’re sleeping with one of your officers?” You ask and you just barely feel his fingers twitch against your skin.

“Why should it? I don’t care what they think of me as long as they do their jobs,” he answers.

“Right,” you suppose it wouldn’t matter to him, it’s not like someone’s going to say something about it to him even if they do have a problem.

“If anyone gives you trouble over our arrangement you come to me. I won’t continue covering for your little outbursts,” he says.

“E-excuse me?” You blink up at him, heat burning through your chest as you gape up at him. “ _ My _ fucking outburst?” 

“Are you having trouble hearing? Yes, your little tantrum,” he snaps, fingers pressing a bit harder into your skin, eyes darkening as he hisses, “now, watch your tone.”

You set your jaw as you glare up at him, every part of you knowing you should just say ‘yes sir’ and go on your way, but the anger clawing its way up the inside of your chest is persistent and the words leave you before you can stop them.

“Fuck you.” 

His eyes blaze, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath through his nose, and then his hand is curling in your hair, pulling hard enough to yank your head back. You let out a cry of surprise, grunting as your back connects with the wall, sharp pain tingling across your scalp and your insides clenching.

He presses himself flush against you, nearly crushing you into the wall as he looks down at you, each quickened breath brushing across your face. The heat from his body is suffocating and you bite back a whimper, trying to maintain your act of defiance. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten your place,” he hisses, the hand not in your hair reaching up to curl into your jaw. “I wasn’t going to punish you, but now it seems necessary.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the growing need for friction between your thighs, but you can’t help the way your thighs twitch.

Suddenly some of the anger fades from his face, clarity briefly softening his features as he stares down at you.

“Ah, I see,” he whispers, forcing his leg between yours, pressing his thigh against your clothed core. “You want me to hurt you. Naughty girl.”

You bite down on your lip, holding your breath to stop yourself from making a sound, hands grabbing at his shoulders as he grinds his thigh against you. Even through all the fabric the pressure on your clit nearly has you melting against him, walls clenching desperately around nothing. 

“Answer me,” he snaps, pressing your cheeks into your teeth until it hurts and you moan, your attempt to squirm away from the grip only resulting in your hips rocking against his thigh.

“Yes sir, I do,” you whimper, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on his.

“You do, what?” He growls, giving another tug on your hair and you hiss, everything in you clenching as you grind against him.

“I want you to hurt me, sir,” you manage on an unsteady exhale, heart beating loud enough you’re sure he can hear it.

“Good,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing you, hard and fast, like he’s trying to steal the air from your lungs. 

Instantly you cave, body going pliant against him as you press your palms against his chest. His tongue pushes past your lips, nearly pushing down your throat as he crushes you beneath him. Your head spins, hands gripping at any part of him they can find as his fingers untangle themselves from your hair. In one smooth motion he’s ripped your shirt open, buttons bouncing and clattering as they hit the floor, and then is pushing it off your shoulders. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard enough for it to sting. Your bra is discarded as quickly as your shirt and you can taste blood as his head dips to kiss down your throat. 

He bites down on the side of your neck, you hold for as long as you can until the pain becomes unbearable and you squirm, hands pushing at his chest.

He smooths his tongue over the mark, pressing his tongue into the teeth marks left in your skin. He might have even broken skin but it’s hard to tell, the growing hardness against your stomach is far more distracting. 

“Stop fucking squirming,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your throat and the back of your head hits the wall with a dull thud. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you whine.

His hand connects with your cheek with a sharp smack, not really hard enough to hurt you, but definitely enough to startle you. You gape up at him, mind blanking as you stare up into those eyes, once more full of that burning intensity that makes you feel like you’re absolutely nothing beneath it.

“No,  _ what _ ?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but full of enough malice to make your blood go cold despite the warmth burning in your lower belly.

“No sir,” you barely have it in you to put any force behind the words, his slap still faintly stinging against your cheek, his hand barely squeezing at your throat. 

There’s a moment, just longer than a breath as he takes you in, eyes searching yours for something.

And then he’s pushing you face down into his mattress, one hand curled around the back of your neck, pressing your face hard into the bed as he uses the other to pull your pants and underwear down to your knees.

You can hear the rustling of fabric as he frees himself from his pants and your pulse skyrockets, your breath stuttering in your chest.

“Then what you’re going to do is lay here,” He lifts your hips just enough to push a pillow beneath them, straddling your thighs as he leans over you, “and take my cock like a good little girl.”

He thrusts into you in one sharp movement and you wail, fingers gripping at the sheets, body fruitlessly attempting to jerk away from the harsh intrusion. The stretch burns, and your body still aches from the treatment it had received only 24 hours ago, but still you let out a sound of relief at the sensation of finally being full. 

“Such a tight fucking cunt,” he groans, the hand that isn’t wrapped around your neck curling hard into your hip.

Your walls flutter around him and he growls, snapping his hips into you with enough force to slide you forward, the sheets rubbing unforgivingly against your cheek until it burns. Each thrust hits somewhere deep enough inside you to almost be painful, forcing a consistent stream of strained noises to spill from you. 

“What’s the matter? Can’t keep up now that you’re getting what you asked for, you filthy little slut,” he spits, leaning over you to press his lips to your ear and you whimper.

You can feel yourself drooling but you don’t have it in you to care when you can barely catch your breath, each thrust in and out of you dragging divinely against your walls.

He thrusts faster into you, hitting something inside you that makes your entire body lock up beneath him, everything curling inward, air sticking in your lungs before you finally manage to release it as a scream.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growls, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to restrict your blood flow and your eyes unfocus, the tension curling somehow tighter in your lower abdomen until it hurts.

Your eyes water as you try to breathe in enough to allow you to speak, but all you can get out is pathetic sounding squeaks as you claw at the fabric beneath you.

“P-please I-I,” your throat squeezes shut as he thrusts harder into you, stars dancing across your blurred vision. 

“Fucking answer me whore,” He pants, fingers pressing harder into your pulse and your eyes roll back, body trembling beneath him.

“Yours, ah- sir,” you wheeze, a tear rolling down your temple as you force your eyes shut.

He grunts somehow thrusting harder and faster into you, the hand curled into your hip shifting to press against your lower back, forcing you to arch against the mattress.

“I’m g-going to,  _ fuck _ ,” your voice is strangled and high, thighs begining to cramp from their prolonged flexing.

And then everything in you snaps and you nearly seize beneath him, your shout only partially muffled by the mattress as you cum. 

His pace is erratic, harsh, and fast, and almost painful as your body completely gives out beneath him. 

“Such a desperate little thing,” he loosens his grip on the sides of your throat but presses your face harder into the sheets, lifting your hips just slightly and you can’t help the sob like sound that leaves you. “You just want to be held down and fucked, like a bitch in heat. Fucking slut.”

His voice is raspy and uneven, breathing fast and heavy against your ear and you hope he’s going to cum soon because stars you can’t even feel your legs anymore. 

“You should learn to be careful what you ask for,” he groans, hips stuttering against you before he spills inside you.

He thrusts a few more times into you, long and slow movements, letting your hips fall back against the pillow he’d placed beneath you. The hand on the back of your neck lifts, shifting to massage gently at your scalp as you both catch your breath. 

A kiss between your shoulder blades makes something in you come to a screeching halt, your mind stalling as he pulls away. 

You push yourself upright, arms trembling beneath your weight as you roll onto your hip. He watches you for a moment before reaching out, fingers brushing over the cheek he had slapped with a surprising tenderness. 

“I have to leave for a few days,” he pulls away, standing and pushing his hands through his hair.

“So, I’m suspended and you’re not even going to be around,” you sigh and again it’s almost there when he looks at you, the ghost of a smile. “That does make it slightly more impactful.” 

You push yourself to your feet, taking that as your cue to leave. 

“May I, um, use your refresher, before I go?” You ask, keeping your eyes on your feet so you don’t have to look at him while you wait for an answer.

“Of course,” he takes a step closer and you force yourself to meet his eyes, immediately feeling your chest go heavy when you do. “And I’ll make sure you have a new uniform before you return to work.”

“Much appreciated, sir,” you can’t help the heat that crawls up your cheeks, or your smile despite it.

He makes a soft sound, more just a quick exhale through his nose before he turns away, “have a good night, Captain.”


	9. After Fury, What Do You Do With the Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* PLEASE read this first, there is assault in this chapter, not sexual assault, but I don't want anyone to read it if it's going to trigger or upset them, that isn't my goal. Even if you feel like it might bother you it's cool and I get it, and if you want to stick with this story, I'll see you in the next chapter :) If not, I understand and thanks for coming this far.
> 
> There's also no Kylo, or smut in this chapter so you know :/ but I promise there is more on the wayyyy
> 
> As always thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter, and for sticking with this story despite my brief disappearing act :) 
> 
> (chapter title is taken from "The Kindly Ones" by Maya Phillips)

You sit before Tanner, Baize, and Minne, a bite mark shaped bruise on the side of your neck, a raw lower lip, and your left cheek still red from being rubbed against the sheets. Tanner’s mouth hangs slightly open, Baize has a hand pressed over his mouth with his brows drawn low, and Minne’s cheeks have gone pink, her eyes wide and lips pursed. It’s definitely not a conversation you want to be having with them, but you feel like you owe it to them at this point.

“So, how- you and Commander Ren, are you… dating?” Tanner finally breaks the silence and you sigh.

“No, it’s um, pretty casual,” you wring your hands, twisting your fingers together, scraping your nails over the backs of your hands. “But we haven’t exactly had a conversation about it either.”

“And it’s consensual?” Minne asks, her voice small but there’s a definite concern in her eyes.

“Completely,” you assure her. 

“You’re sure? He’s not pressuring you or coercing you into anything?” Baize finally lets his hand drop into his lap, but he still looks confused, upset even.

“No, I swear,” you push a hand through your hair, unable to help the small flicker of annoyance you feel at the suggestion you would let that happen, and slightly caught off guard by the need you feel to defend Kylo. “I’m a big girl, I knew what I was getting myself into.”

Another lapse of silence as they further process the information, looking very much like statues as they stare at you. You let your head drop between your shoulder, very much wishing you could be somewhere else.

“How did this even start?” Tanner whispers and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t even really know it just… seemed to happen. Every time we interacted things just kind of, spiraled, farther and farther until, well,” you shrug.

“So…” You glance up at Minne as she trails off, the flush in her face darkening as she bites at her thumb. “What does he look like?” 

You can’t help the wry smile that pulls at your lips, rubbing at the back of your neck as you think of how you want to respond. Surely he wouldn’t be upset about you just describing him. Right? 

“He’s beautiful honestly,” you breathe, watching each of their expressions shift to shock. “Dark hair, nice lips, and these eyes that are just… so intense. They’re sad, and angry, and full of so much  _ feeling _ , I don’t even know how to describe it.” 

Tanner arches a brow and Minne’s lips part into a soft ‘o’. Baize crosses his arms, staring down at his shoes.

“That was, not a description I would describe as casual,” Tanner remarks, offering you a knowing smile and you flush.

“What’s he like though, in an … intimate setting? It’s so hard to picture, I mean he seems so angry and scary all the time,” Minne twists a few strands of hair around her fingers, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Intense is a good word for him, again. He’s just, well,” your face burns, unsure of how to tell them the truth without feeling the need to explain yourself. “I’ll leave it at intense. But afterwards it’s always like, he’s never had a normal conversation with a person and has no idea how to.”

“Meaning, you guys don’t really talk much?” Tanner can barely contain the laughter in her voice.

“No, this is not a relationship built on a strong foundation of communication,” you clear your throat and Minne laughs.

“So when do you see him again?” Minne leans forward, resting her chin in her palms.

“A few days, once he gets back,” you shrug and the two exchange a glance, and for a brief moment you feel like some silly teenage girl again.

“We appreciate you telling us,” Tanner says.

“I just wanted you to hear it from me first, before you start hearing it from everyone else,” you rub at your temples, the thought of dealing with stares and whispers for the next month or so making your head hurt.

“So that is what Rix was talking about the other day,” Baize keeps his eyes on his shoes as he speaks, but at least he doesn’t sound angry anymore you suppose. 

Perhaps just a bit uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Well, we’re glad you’re ok, and as long as you’re happy then we’re happy for you. But, we do still have jobs to get to,” Tanner winks at you and you shoot her a playful scowl.

You say your goodbyes before they go off on their way, and honestly you feel better for telling them. It’s just one less thing to sit in the back of your mind and whisper worries in your ear as you try to sleep. They had also taken it pretty well considering you suppose, none of them had seemed absolutely appalled. Their confusion you understood perfectly though, and you definitely don’t blame them for the curiosity. 

Despite being suspended from work you do a significant amount of it, planning lessons and exercises for the weeks to come. Considering there isn’t much else for you to do, it’s the best use of the time you can think of. 

You also spend a lot of time thinking about Kylo, about those brief gentle touches that catch you so off guard. A finger smoothing down your spine, his hand massaging your scalp, caressing your cheek, a kiss between the shoulders, the way he always looks at you like there’s something more he wants to say he just doesn’t know how. 

You don’t want to read too much into it, that just feels like asking to get your feelings hurt, but you can’t help but wonder. 

He’s maybe not quite as cold as he wants people to think.

⇼

The third and final day of your suspension had come by faster than anticipated, your free time filled with working, working out, sleeping, or hanging out with Tanner when she had the chance. 

You almost wish it had gone by just a little slower, you had enjoyed having the free time, but you can’t complain too much. 

Your suspension being over also means Kylo is coming back. 

It’s still endlessly comical to you, that of all the people in the fucking galaxy you could get attatched to and excited about seeing, you chose Kylo Ren. 

There’s still that whisper of something, telling you that you should be repulsed by him, you should hate him, for all that he is and all that he stands for. But it feels like it would be hypocritical. He’s done bad things, yes, but so have you. Because you were someone following orders, and you were too afraid to disobey or think too hard about what you were doing really meant. Maybe that’s why you feel so drawn to him. If anyone understands the mess going on in your head, it would be him, Force mind reading powers or not. 

You sigh, using your sleeve to wipe the sweat from your forehead as you round the corner and then freeze.

Rix leans against your door, arm crossed and head leaned back, and when his eyes meet yours he smiles.

“There you are, have a good time at the gym?”

“You’ve been stalking me?” You glance over your shoulder, heart dropping into your stomach as two men step up behind you, blocking your other path to escape. 

“You have a highly predictable schedule, but you haven’t gone to, well,  _ visit _ the Commander in a while,” he pushes off the door, taking his sweet time walking towards you.

His nose and the inner corner of his left eye is still bruised, but his nose looks like it was able to be reset.

At least it won’t be crooked.

“Where’s Derek?” You ask, everything in you screaming to run but you can hear the men behind you closing in on you too. “Doesn’t have the stomach for assault?”

Rix drags his tongue over his bottom lip, letting out a humorless laugh, “You know I read your psych evaluation, from when they brought you back from Dathomir. Irritable, unstable, aggressive, deemed unfit to serve the Order. Is that why you started fucking the Commander? To save your skin?” 

Your heart is beating triple time, your pulse hammering against the inside of your neck, your ears absolutely burning.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” You breathe, readjusting your grip on your water bottle as he gets closer.

“I just thought you’d be fun to mess around with at first but, after your little display in the dining hall, it’s obvious you need to be taught some respect,” he’s just within arms reach now, and there’s nothing but hate in his eyes.

“I really don’t think you’re qualified to teach me that one,” you say and that wicked smile drops from his face, but the way his top lip twitches as he looks at you is far worse.

“You’re an insufferable bitch,” he spits and reflexively you take a step back, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of one of the men behind you in your periphery and you internally curse. 

“I’d think very carefully before you decide what you’re going to do next,” you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to steady yourself. 

“I know your boyfriends out of town sweetheart, no one will even know what happened to you by the time he gets back,” he whispers, mouth splitting into an awful grin that turns your lungs to stone in your chest.

A hand grabs your shoulder and you swing, metal water bottle connecting with a resounding ring. One of the men groans, staggering back from the blow to the head, the second rushes you, arms wrapping around your middle and knocking you to the ground. The impact forces the air from your lungs and you scramble, hands finding his hair and pulling as hard as you can. His head rears back just enough for you to knee him in the throat.

You fumble to your feet as he wheezes, Rix just barely entering your view before there’s a blow to the side of your face. Everything reels, your vision spinning and ears ringing as you catch yourself on the wall, shaking your head and taking deep breaths to keep yourself conscious. 

There’s a tug on the back of your shirt and you shout as you hit the ground, pain flaring through your chest, all the way down to your elbow as your full weight comes down on your left shoulder.

“Oh no, that wasn’t your bad shoulder was it?” Rix taunts before the toe of his boot connects with your mouth. 

You sputter, spitting out blood as it floods your mouth, gasping as you roll onto your knees. You still can’t quite see straight, the lights are too bright and it feels like the hallway is rocking. The next kick is to the stomach, knocking you back onto your side, knocking the wind out of you. You can feel the rubber sole of his boot connect with your cheekbone, head turning, causing the right side of your face to bounce hard off the ground.

“You’re nothing, just a broken girl that’s so desperate she’ll do just about anything, and anyone apparently,” he sighs, sounding disinterested.

You wheeze, everything around you spinning as you try to right yourself, your eyes refusing to focus.

“This makes you feel tough, huh?” you snarl, barely making it to your feet without falling back over. “What a man you are.”

“Shut her up,” Rix glances over your shoulder, watching as one might watch a street performer as one of the men forces a cloth into your mouth, tying it tight enough behind your head to cut into the sensitive skin in the corners of your mouth.

Each of them grabs an arm, dragging you between them and for a moment you panic, every possibility of what might happen to you once they get you where they want you flashing in your mind. 

You take as deep of a breath as you can manage, before kicking your feet as hard as possible off the ground. There’s a moment long enough for surprise to cross one of the men’s faces before your leg swings over his head, your foot hooking around the back of his neck. One more breath and you twist your hips, trying to throw every ounce of weight on you into the movement.

The three of you tumble to the floor in a heap, an elbow catches you in the ribs, the back of a head collides with your nose, a knee pushes into your back. For a moment it feels like your drowning, hands and limbs suffocating you, blocking out your vision, only letting in streams of light.

You unravel yourself from them, determined to get to your feet no matter what, ignoring the tug on your hair, and the way the seam of your shirt gives against your shoulder as one of them tries to hold on to you, and you run.

“Shit, you fucking idiots!”

You pull the cloth from your mouth, letting it fall on the ground as you force your legs to run what you’re sure is the fastest you’ve ever run in your life. You can hear them behind you, hear their footsteps and their breathing, and the walls are curving and your lungs are burning because you have to keep coughing up blood to stop yourself from choking on it and you’re absolutely going to vomit but you keep moving.

You round a corner, yelping as you connect hard with something, the force knocking you back and you just manage to catch yourself on your elbows.

A pair of wide, familiar blue eyes look down at you as you try to figure out what, or rather,  _ who _ , you had just run full force into.You process the pale face, black clothes, and red hair just a moment later. 

“G-general,” you gasp, struggling to your feet, your knees nearly buckling and you realize after a moment he has a hand on your elbow, and is helping hold you upright.

“What is this?” His brows pull low, nostrils slightly flaring and lips pursing as he looks you over like you’re some kind of unsavory insect. 

You whirl around when you hear them at the end of the hallway, everything in your stomach threatening to end up right there on the floor in front of you. Hux looks between you and the three men, eyes shifting back and forth several times before placing himself in front of you, blocking your view of them. 

“Apprehend them,” Hux orders two of the Stormtrooper’s at his side before turning to the other, “Get her to the medbay.”

“Can you walk?” The Stormtrooper asks you as the other two run off down the hall.

There’s that pain over your left eye, like someone’s shoving a hot poker through your head, each beat of your heart making your brain rattle in your skull. Your entire face hurts, your mouth is bleeding from somewhere and throbbing and all you can taste is metal.

“Ma’am, can you walk?” The Trooper asks again, slightly louder but somehow sounding farther away.

You try to say something, some kind of sound leaves you but you don’t know what, you can’t hear your own voice. You press a hand over your eye, pushing the heel of your palm against the sinus cavity, trying to relieve some of the pressure there. The room sways and you stumble, the shock of landing on your knees jolting all the way up your spine.

A hand curls around your shoulder as you double over and vomit.

Someone is shouting something but it doesn’t make any sense.

All you see is red, and then nothing. 


	10. If You Could See It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say a huge thank you to all of you bc the support on the last chapter was so overwhelming and reading all your comments made me so happy I was smiling and giggling like a fool the whole time, you guys are the best :') 
> 
> Also it's time for some soft hours up in here! (kind of)
> 
> (chapter title is a poem by Nikita Gill)

Everything in you hurts, every muscle protesting as you wake, shifting against the uncomfortable cot beneath you.

“Hey, easy,” Tanner’s voice is soft, slightly hoarse and you force your eyes open despite the pain in your head, blinking over at her.

Her hair is pulled into a careless bun, her eyes slightly red, and under eyes dark and puffy. She looks like she hasn’t slept a wink.

“How long have I been out?” You sound no better for wear, in fact it sounds a lot like you haven’t used your voice in weeks, scratchy and weak and it feels like you have to use a lot of air to make any sound come out. 

“Not long really, about four hours. But you’ve been going in and out for about twelve. You’ve got a pretty bad concussion, so the nurses have been waking you up every few hours to check on you,” she frowns. 

You groan, trying to remember anything that had happened between you passing out in the hallway and now, you maybe remember a nurse sticking the IV in your arm but it’s hazy enough you could convince yourself it was a dream. 

“Nothing feels broken at least,” you sigh, flexing your toes and fingers, rolling your wrists and ankles, softly bending your elbows and knees.

“No, they said nothings broken but you’ve got some nasty bruising, your ribs are going to hurt for a while,” she looks at you and she looks so devastatingly sad, like at any moment she might burst into tears. “I was really fucking worried about you.”

“I’m alright, I’ll be alright,” you place your hand over hers, and realize you're missing half your fingernail on your ring finger. 

“You didn’t see yourself when they brought you in here,” she whispers, voice trembling and it makes your throat squeeze shut and your chest hurt. “You were covered in so much blood I couldn’t even tell where it was all coming from and you were so out of it. You were talking about things that didn’t make any sense and you kept … You kept begging them not to hurt you.”

“How did you even know I was here?” You blink at her, trying to figure out how she could have known and gotten to you so fast.

“General Hux sent a message to Major Sorcof, and he let me know where you were being taken,” she sniffles and leans forward, resting her elbows on the edge of your cot. “I came as fast as I could. Baize and Minne were here for a while too but, they had to get back to work.”

“Thanks, for being here,” you breathe, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and she smiles back at you. “You should go get some rest, you look tired.”

She hesitates, jaw working as she looks at you as if trying to decide if she wants to give you space, or if she’s afraid to leave you. 

“They caught them, Rix and the other two guys. Arin and Len are their names, they didn’t make it very far before Hux’s men stopped them,” she stares down at your overlapped hands as she talks. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them yet.”

You take a deep breath, nodding as you process the information.

“Help me sit up?” You ask and she rolls her eyes but takes your hand, supporting your back with the other as you pull yourself upright.

It hurts every muscle in your torso and back but once you're up the pain subsides and you sigh, rolling your shoulders and shifting to let your legs dangle over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Tanner stands, moving to block your path and you laugh and then grimace, curling an arm around your stomach as your sides ache.

“I’m not trying to go anywhere, I just want to sit,” you assure her before glancing over at the desk. “Will you hand me that mirror?”

She chews on her lip, pushing a hand through her already unkempt hair before going over to grab the mirror. She tucks it against her chest before turning back to look at you.

“I don’t know if this is really the best idea right now-”

“I can handle it,” you cut her off, watching her lips purse together as her frown deepens. “Please?”

She sighs but hands you the mirror, dropping her head to stare down at her shoes as you hold it up.

Your left eye is swollen and bloodshot and the ugly yellowish blue bruising around it stretches almost all the way over your cheekbone and temple into your hairline, there’s a dark bruise over your right cheekbone, the corners of your mouth are raw and blotchy red and purple, and your lower lip has been split open, held together with a butterfly bandage. 

You set the mirror down on the edge of the bed before looking up to meet Tanner’s expectant gaze.

“I look like shit,” you say and her eyes widen, mouth dropping open before she lets out a soft laugh. 

“I don’t know, the burst blood vessels really bring out the color in your eye,” she smiles at you and you drop your head and do your best not to laugh, or smile, the stretch makes your mouth hurt. 

The door swings open and you both jump, heads snapping toward the sound and you feel everything in you go numb as you look up into the familiar black helmet as he comes to a halt in front of Tanner.

“Commander-”

“Get out,” he snaps and she baulks, glancing over her shoulder and waiting for your curt nod.

“Sir I-”

“Out!” He roars and she jumps, quickly stepping around him, closing the door behind her as she goes.

“You didn’t have to yell at her like that,” you mumble, pushing your hands through your hair, trying to tame it and tuck it away behind your ears.

You stare up at him where he stands, looking frozen in place and maybe it’s your headache or the throbbing in your face but something in you snaps as you look up into that empty black visor, too impassive, too cold. You hate it and you don’t know why but if you have to look at it for one more second you’re going to lose your mind.

“Will you take that fucking thing off?” The air stutters out of your lungs as you speak, swallowing around the lump in your throat as you add. “Please.” 

He hesitates before reaching up, air locks hissing before he lifts it off his head, setting it down on the desk by the foot of your cot.

“You’re angry,” he says, and there’s something about looking into his eyes, of seeing him standing before you that makes you break.

“Yeah I’m angry, I got fucking jumped and was nearly abducted to do whatever the fuck they were going to do to me, and I almost fucking lost,” your voice breaks, and you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to look away as your eyes water against the persistant sting behind your nose. “I almost didn’t get away. I wasn’t fast or strong enough and I almost lost, and I was so… I was so scared.” 

You clench your jaw, trying to blink away your tears because Kylo Ren is really the last person you want to cry in front of but a few spill over your cheeks, hot and stinging like acid against your skin. 

He takes a few steps forward and his fingers press into your cheek, turning your face towards him. You blink up at him, watching the way his brows pull together and his jaw shifts as he wipes one of your tears away with a tenderness you never would have thought him capable of. He scans your face, taking in every single one of your bruises, his thumb brushing over the left corner of your mouth before he cups your cheek in his palm. You hold your breath, afraid of anything that might shatter whatever this is. He looks conflicted, expression dancing somewhere between rage and something you can’t quite figure out, a muscle under his left eye twitching as he takes a deep breath through his nose.

“I have to go meet with General Hux to decide the fate of your … attackers,” he tells you and you sniff, once more trying to swallow back the lump stuck in your throat. “They’ll pay for what they did. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good,” you breathe, not trusting yourself to say much more.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, almost looking shocked, as if he hadn’t been planning on saying those words. “When they release you, pack a bag and come to my quarters.”

“I don’t- I can’t-”

“I wasn’t asking you,” there’s that something there in his eyes again, that tsunami of feeling that he somehow keeps silent, and stands firm against. “You will stay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, afraid you might both be crushed beneath the weight of that tsunami if you refuse.

He blinks, lips parting and jaw working as if he has something else to say, but again he says nothing. Instead he pulls away from you, letting his hand fall from your cheek.

“Wait,” you catch his wrist and he turns back to you, that burning something that had been in his eyes now snuffed out and you feel yourself deflate.

_ Don’t go _ , as soon as you even think of saying it you feel like an idiot, he has obligations that are not your emotional wellbeing, and you suppose Kylo Ren isn’t particularly the person you should be seeking comfort from. But still there’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to go, that wants him to just keep standing there with his hand on your cheek, saying absolutely nothing. You wouldn’t even care if he just sat beside you, even if you didn’t touch, or talk, just to have him next to you, to know he’s with you. 

Stupid. 

“Thanks for coming to see me,” you let go of him, pulling your hand back into your lap.

He holds your gaze for what feels like a long time but what you’re sure is only a few seconds, eye trained on yours like there’s something he’s trying to find. Then he looks away, and you just catch the way the corners of his mouth twitch, turning down as he grabs his helmet and puts it back on his head before storming back out of the room. 

As soon as he’s gone you crumble, pressing a hand over your mouth as your vision blurs, eyes burning as your tears finally fight their way forward. You curl in on yourself as you sob, your breath stuttering and catching as your chest burns and your sides ache. You feel the split in your lip reopen and curse. The blood mixes with the tears converging under your chin as you try to wipe it away on the back of your hand, and you can’t tell what’s what anymore, facing aching as you try to rub your tears away. You hardly register the door opening again until you feel a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back down.

“I know you’re probably feeling confused and upset, but I need you to stay calm or you could hurt yourself more,” the nurse tells you, and you nod trying to soothe yourself but you can’t stop your shaky exhales or the tears that continue to run down your temples. “We’re going to give you some more medicine, it’ll help you relax, alright? Are you in pain?”

You shake your head, and she uses something damp to clean your face as another nurse fiddles with something over your shoulder, just out of your periphery. There’s a slight pinch in your shoulder as you're injected with something and the other nurse replaces the butterfly bandage on your lip. 

The nurse adjusts your blankets, pulling them up to your shoulders.

“Get some rest dear.” 

⇼

You were released from the medbay the next morning, declared still concussed but not enough to be a danger to yourself. So they sent you on your way with some spare butterfly bandages and three different bottles of medicine that all have to be taken regularly at different points throughout the day. 

You had thrown the painkillers away as soon as you got to your room. 

They’d given you a week of leave from work to recover, so you packed a bag for about a week, and headed to Kylo’s room. 

Now you sit cross legged on one corner of his bed, picking at your cuticles while he dresses in his robes, tucking his helmet under his arm as he turns to you.

“Why ask me to stay here if you won’t even be here?” You fold your hands together to stop your fidgeting, pressing your knuckles into your calf.

“You’re coming with me.”

“What?” Your head snaps up fast enough to send a jolt of pain through your skull and you grimace, pressing your head between your palms as you wait for it to pass. “Going with you where?”

“You’ll see,” he lowers his helmet onto his head before turning and walking out of the room and you groan but follow after him. 

You were expecting stares, whispers, but turns out actually walking beside Kylo Ren is like an attention repellent. People see him coming and actively look the other direction or turn down halls, doing everything in their power to pretend they do not know he’s there and to stay out of his line of fire. You’re convinced half of them are so worried about him they don’t even notice you. 

You have to speed walk to keep up with him but the slight elevation in your heart rate makes your head throb and your sides ache with every deep breath you try to take.

“Gods,” you huff, stopping to try and catch your breath and slow your heart down and he turns to look down at you. “I usually wouldn’t mind having to jog to keep pace with you, but I can’t breathe.” 

“Right,” he glances up and down the hallway, waiting for you to steady yourself. “I could carry you.”

“That’s-” You laugh, your face burning at the thought of being carried through the halls of the Finalizer by Kylo Ren himself, “I don’t think that’s necessary, just walk a little slower please.”

He nods before starting off again at a much more manageable pace for your current state of being.

He leads you through several corridors, each of them becoming progressively more empty until you’re convinced you’ve reached some part of the ship you’re not supposed to be in. You’re guided into a room, and you freeze just in the doorway, blinking as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting. 

There are two Stormtroopers standing off against the left wall, and General Hux stands in the center of the room, and before him stands Rix. Hux turns towards you, face going slack and he visibly swallows as Kylo walks past you. You both watch him walk right for Rix, his fist connecting hard with the side of the other man's face, sending his feet right out from under him.

“Capitain, it’s good to see you up and about so soon,” Hux says and you take a slow step forward, keeping your eyes on him so you don’t have to look at Rix.

“Thank you General, and thank you for your help,” you hold his gaze as you speak and he takes a deep breath before nodding and turning back to where Rix and Kylo both are.

“What happened to Arin and Len?” You ask Hux, keeping your voice low for no reason other than it’s so quiet it would feel wrong to make too much sound.

“They were stripped of their positions and exiled, Rix was to receive the same sentence but,” Hux clears his throat, unable to hide the hint of annoyance that creeps into his tone, “the Commander, had another idea.”

“I wanted to let you choose,” Kylo says before his lightsaber stutters to life and you jump back, the room filling with red light and the distinct and somehow familiar smell of something burning. “If he should live or die.”

“This is bullshit,” Rix spits, once more back on his feet and the blunt end of the saber connects hard with his nose, sending him stumbling backwards.

“If you’re going to speak it should only be to beg her for mercy, otherwise keep your mouth shut,” Kylo snaps, hovering the tip of his saber centimeters away from Rix’s chest. 

“Maybe you should beg,” you step closer, looking away from Kylo to stare at Rix. You don’t want him to beg, not really, but you do want to get a rise out of him, just to watch him squirm a little. 

It only seems fair.

“You fucking cunt, think you’re all tough now that your dogs back around? I almost had you!” He roars before another blow on the back of the head sends him forward, just managing to catch himself on his hands and knees, blood from his nose splattering against the floor.

“Yes, almost, and I tried to warn you about what would happen if you carried out your little plan. And look at where we are now,” something ugly inside you flickers and claws at you, making you want to kick him right in the face, over and over until it’s nothing but mush, to grab that saber and slice him wide open but you push it down, taking a deep breath to level yourself.

“I want him exiled,” you say, Rix and Kylo snapping their heads in your direction but you level your gaze with where you know Kylo’s eyes are and finish, “but I want him sent to Dathomir.”

“You-you can’t fucking do that, that’s just a prolonged death sentence,” Rix sputters, face red and eyes buldging as he looks up at you. “Just kill me now.”

“No,” you shrug, the silence and darkness hanging heavy in the air as Kylo deactivates his saber. “Enjoy your trip.” 

“Get him up then,” Hux motions to the Troopers who jump to action, lifting Rix between the two of them as they escort him from the room.

Hux casts you a long look, something like approval perhaps flickering over his face before he follows them out of the room. 

You turn and watch them go, taking a deep breath as your eyes water, doing your best to try and blink the tears back before they fall.

“Do you regret your decision?” Kylo asks from behind you and you run your tongue over your busted lip to stop yourself from biting down on it.

“No,” you clear your throat, reaching up to wipe your tears away before they get the chance to fall. “But I don’t really feel any better for it either. It’s this stupid concussion, making me feel all mixed up and making me cry. I never fucking cry.” 

A soft sob escapes you at the end of your sentence and you press your hand over your mouth, closing your eyes and letting a few tears fall.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, drying your cheeks with your sleeves before turning around to face him. “Can we go back, I just .... I need to lie down.”

He tucks his lightsaber away before stepping forward, his hand resting on your shoulder as he guides you out of the room and back through the halls. You keep your head down for the walk back, not able to find it in yourself to watch people cower away as the two of you walk by.

As soon as you’re in his room you toe out of your shoes before rifling through your bag until you find your meds. You down one of each before lowering yourself onto Kylo’s bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why’d you throw away your pain meds?” He asks after he’s removed his helmet, stripping out of his usual garb and into something more casual and comfortable.

“I didn’t want them,” you roll onto your side, closing your eyes as you press your face into his sheets.

They smell clean and like him and you feel something inside you loosen, body relaxing farther into the mattress beneath you. The other side of the bed dips but you keep your eyes closed, trying to sink further into the comfortable warmth. 

And then he says your name and you’re jerked right back to full alert, pushing yourself slightly upright as you look over at him where he lays on the other side of the bed. You suppose it makes sense that he knows your name, but the thought of hearing him say it had never even crossed your mind. If it weren’t for the way he’s looking at you, you might have been able to convince yourself you were just hearing things. 

“Come here,” it’s a soft command, one you have the feeling he would let you disobey but you’re not sure why you’d want to.

You crawl towards him until you’re within his reach and his arms circle around you, slowly, hesitantly as if the act is completely foreign as he pulls you against his chest. His arms are still locked around you, and you can hear every single beat of his heart the way your head rests on top of his chest. He’s warm and solid against you, wrapped around you and it seems like it’s the last thing you should be feeling in his embrace, but you feel  _ safe _ . 

“Is this...” he swallows, hands shifting, one draping over your side, the other cupping the back of your head, “are you-”

“This is fine,” you whisper, tucking your arms against your chest, trying to process the fact that you’re being held by Kylo Ren, and definitely not wanting to do anything to ruin it.

Once the shock begins to subside you start slipping back into the heavy darkness, letting your eyes close as your body relaxes fully against him. 

“General Hux told me about running into him after your attack,” the low baritone of his voice as he whispers only helps lull you further into him. “He said you asked for me, before you blacked out.”

You try to formulate a response, and maybe it’s your medicine, or maybe it’s the concussion, or maybe it’s his body heat and the weight of his arms around you, but you’re unable to pull yourself from the fog you’ve slipped into, getting out nothing more than an incoherent mumble before succumbing to sleep.


	11. Do I Still Taste of War?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some domestic bliss with Kylo, and vanilla shower sex pals. This may or may not have been partially inspired by that photoshoot Adam Driver did where he's just wet and in a bathroom. Also, just so you better understand the *ViBeS* I was putting into this chapter, I listened to Cigarettes and Sex by prxz, Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey, Run by Joji, Tired by baebadoobee, when the flies fell by Sub Urban, and Will He by Joji on repeat :) 
> 
> Like always, thank you guys so much for your support on this, it makes me so happy to know it's being enjoyed and you guys are invested in this story :) I also wanted to say, I try to reply to all the comments but if my reply's come across as short or rude at all I'm so sorry I'm just awkward and I don't always know what to say and I worry about it everytime I respond to someone, but I really am appreciative.
> 
> (chapter title is a line taken from What Does Forgiveness Taste Like? by r.n.)

Kylo is gone most of the day, and considering you’re not allowed to work out, and staring at a screen makes your head hurt, you spend a significant amount of time sleeping or staring at his bedroom ceiling. You do some stretches and gently massage your face and ribs, trying to keep the blood from pooling. After three days most of the swelling in your face has gone down, and you’re not feeling quite as out of sorts anymore.

At least you don’t feel like you’re going to burst into tears at any given moment.

It’s emotionally been a confusing three days though. He’ll come back from whatever he’s doing, sometimes he’ll talk about it and sometimes he won’t but you never ask. Sometimes you both will go long periods of time not saying anything to one another, sometimes you’ll fill the silence with idle chatter. Sometimes he’ll talk in his sleep, snippets of conversations, nightmares, and you’ll wake him and again neither of you will speak but he’ll look into your eyes and he’ll hold you like somehow it’ll make it go away. Sometimes you wake up sweating, gasping for air and you have to unravel yourself from him and stare into the darkness and convince yourself you’re safe. He sits up with you, doesn’t speak or touch you, just waits until you stop shaking to pull you back into him. It all feels intimate in this base way that you don’t think you could describe even if you tried.

You can’t make heads or tails out of any of it. 

You push yourself off his bed, trying to make yourself as presentable looking as possible before heading out to meet Tanner. 

She greets you with a smile and a gentle hug before motioning you inside, and you find a wide eyed Minne and Baize looking back at you. 

“Hey,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing down at your toes so you don’t have to just watch them stare at you.

“Hey are you… should you be up?” Minne asks before slowly moving towards you, ducking her head to catch your eyes.

“I’m fine, really. It looks way worse than it feels,” you shrug holding still as she reaches out, her cool fingers just barely brushing over your cheek.

“Gods I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she whispers, dark eyes glazing over and you pull her into you, her arms wrapping tentatively around you and she rubs gently at your shoulders.

“Don’t waste those tears on me,” you sigh as she pulls away, her eyes still damp as she sniffles and you smile. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You really are a hard ass,” Minne clears her throat, wiping her eyes with her sleeves and you both laugh.

“What happened to those guys?” Baize asks, his eyes still stuck on his hands folded in his lap where he sits on the edge of Tanner’s bed.

“They were stripped of their positions and exiled,” you say and his head snaps up, he glances at Minne before looking back at you and scowls.

“That’s it? I thought for sure Commander Ren would have had their heads on spikes or something.”

“He let me choose,” you watch all of their faces drop. “For Rix anyway, so I had him exiled to Dathomir.” 

“That’s-” Tanner bites her lip, cutting herself off but you nod, knowing perfectly well what she was going to say.

“He brought up my psych evaluation from when I’d been brought back from Dathomir, before he attacked me. I know you’ve seen it,” you’re not angry, or trying to be accusatory and you hope Tanner understands that but a flash of guilt still crosses her face. “Maybe he’ll have a moment of clarity before he dies, you know, where he gets it.”

There’s a long stretch of silence and you let them have it, give them the chance to figure out how they feel about it all.

“Do you want to sit?” Tanner suddenly offers, gesturing to her desk chair or her bed but you shake your head.

“I’ve been doing a lot of sitting these past few days, I don’t mind standing,” you assure her.

“Oh yeah, where have you been staying?” She asks. “We came by your room and the medbay and you weren’t at either one.”

“Um, Commander Ren requested that I stay with him,” you look away as heat burns up your neck and across your face, folding your arms across your stomach. “At least until I’m recovered, I think. Also, I’m sorry he yelled at you like that, he didn’t need to.”

“Oh. N-no worries, I’m sure he was anxious to see you. But that's good, right?” Tanner stumbles and you can’t help the soft laugh you let out.

“It’s been confusing at best. I mean it’s been nice, to not be alone and maybe part of it’s my concussion but I can’t figure out … How I feel about anything,” you push your hands through your hair and sigh. “All I know is I like being with him, even when we don’t talk to each other there’s just something comfortable about it.”

“That’s a good place to start though, right?” Minne chimes in, chin propped up on her palm. “You’ve got time to figure out the rest.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you nod, running your tongue over your lip which has finally started to scab over. “I’m glad I got to see you guys, but I should go, before he gets back.”

“Right, well thanks for coming to see us,” Tanner smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder as you move for the door.

“It’s good to know you’re alright,” Minne hops up, walking out with you and Tanner, dropping her voice to whisper. “Make sure to check in though, we want to know how things are going with you know who.” 

She winks at you and you smile, shaking your head.

“Sure thing, I’ll start keeping a journal,” you roll your eyes, offering a wave before turning and starting the walk back.

The first thing you do when you reach his room is head for the refresher. You turn on the shower as you strip from your clothes, sighing at your reflection in the mirror. 

The bruising definitely is concerning looking, all of the blood having settled and beginning to dissipate. You run your fingers over your right rib cage, tenderly tracing the bruising there. 

You hear the door open and you bite the inside of your cheek, glancing over your shoulder in the reflection as you hear his footsteps get closer. He stops behind you, his eyes travelling over your body before holding your gaze in the reflection.

“Care to join me?” You ask, brushing your hair over your shoulder as you watch him.

You take a deep breath, unable to help the way your stomach flips as he brings his hand to his mouth, pinching the leather of his glove between his teeth to pull it off. He lets the glove fall from his lips before pulling off the other, reaching for his robes once his hands are bare. 

He lets the clothes fall unceremoniously to the floor and you turn as the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders are exposed. You lean back, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink as he undoes his pants before pushing them down his hips.

Every inch of him is solid and muscular and you guess you should have expected that but you let your eyes wander, fully taking him in, realizing the amount of hours of training and work he must put in to be built like that. He steps forward, eyes locked on yours as he stares down at you and you feel overwhelmingly small and bare in front of him now.

He watches you reach out, fingers brushing over his stomach before you press your palm flat against his skin, just to feel. And there’s something about it that feels surreal because despite how many times you’ve been exposed in front of him this is the first time you’ve seen him. It feels like he’s giving you something you’re not sure you want the responsibility of.

You pull away, stepping into the shower and ducking your head under the stream of warm water. You can feel him step in behind you and you force yourself to stay where you are despite your reflexive reaction to put space between the two of you. 

“Did you go out today?” One of his hands settles on your hip as you shampoo your hair and your heart nearly leaps into your throat. His fingers move idly over your skin, tracing up your side, stopping short as they reach your bruises.

“I just went and saw Tanner, Minne, and Baize. I wanted to let them know I’m ok,” you turn around once you’re done, eyes following a stray drop of water as it collects above his collarbone before dripping down his chest.

He makes a small sound of acknowledgement as the two of you switch places. You watch as he dips his head back under the water before smoothing his hands through it, pushing it back out of his face. 

He blinks the water from his eyes before looking back at you, watching a bead of water drip over your lips.

Then he’s kissing you, arms curling around you, hands sliding over your back to pull you in as you curl your fingers in his hair and press up onto your toes.

He kisses you just hard enough to make your lips ache, tongues clashing against one another as his hand slides up your neck, loosely curling in the hair at the base of your skull. You sigh into him, ignoring the ache in your ribs as you press yourself closer, letting your hands slide over his arms and shoulders, feeling every ridge and dip of muscle. Wanting to touch as much of him as possible while you have the chance. 

You can feel him semi-hard against your stomach and everything inside you clenches, air catching in your throat. You slide your hand down his chest, brushing your fingernails over his stomach before you curl your fingers around his length. His head falls forward, forehead pressing against yours as you stroke him, his breath stuttering against your lips.

His hands cup your face as his eyes open, dark and heavy as they look into yours and you feel overwhelmingly consumed by nothing but him.

“I want you,” the words leave you as less than a whisper, heart hammering against the inside of your chest.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twitching before his fingers curl into your thighs, lifting you against him. You hook your legs around his waist as he presses you into the wall, leaning into you just enough to feel the pressure of him against you, but not enough to hurt you. 

You brush your fingers over his cheek, his lips, his eyebrows, mapping his features out in your mind. He doesn’t move, lips slightly parted as he watches you, waiting until you drape your arms over his shoulders and lean into him to meet you in the middle.

One of his hands curls into your ass as the other curls into your waist, groaning into your kiss. He kisses across your jaw, down the side of your neck. He pauses, pressing a kiss over the scar on your shoulder and you swear your heart stops for a second, filled with a rush of something you don’t know how to name. He drags his lips over your collarbone before bringing them back up the side of your throat, curling around the skin as he sucks a mark to the surface, tongue wet and hot as it smooths over the spot and you gasp, hips rolling against him.

“Commander-”

“My name,” he cuts you off, voice breathless and low, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Say my name.”

Your breath hiccups in your chest as you inhale, the air stuttering as your heart beats faster, letting his name form on your tongue.

“Kylo, please,” you whisper, watching his eyes darken, jaw shifting as he lets go of your waist, guiding his cock to your entrance before pushing into you.

You moan, letting your head fall back against the wall as he pushes into you slow enough for you to feel every inch of him as he stretches you open.

“Say it again,” he groans before pulling out and thrusting back into you, his arms curling around your waist to hold you steady against him.

“Kylo,” it leaves you as a gasp, eyelids fluttering as he begins moving faster against you, using his grip on you to pull you into him to meet his thrusts.

“ _ Fuck _ . Again,” he growls, letting go of you with one arm to curl his fingers back into the hair at the base of your neck, gripping just tight enough for you to feel the tension on your scalp as he rocks harder into you.

“Oh, s-stars, Kylo,” you grip at his shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin as you let your head fall forward, his eyes burning into you as you finally meet them. “Faster, please.”

He groans, letting go of your hair to curl his fingers around the back of your neck, biting down on his bottom lip before moving harder and faster into you. You let out an unstable cry, fingernails raking across his shoulder blades, neck straining against his grip keeping your head locked in place. He hisses, pressing in closer to you, his hand shifting from your neck to cup the side of your face, pushing back loose strands of wet hair.

Your insides twist, core clenching around him, the heat building in your lower belly tingling all the way down to your toes. You watch his lips part and curl as he pants and grunts, but his eyes never once leave your face, and you feel both incredibly awed and overwhelmed by the fire in them. Unable to decipher how someone could look at you like that, and make you simultaneously feel so powerful yet so small. 

The room is filled with steam, the sound of running water, the wet sound of him sliding in and out of you and his skin connecting with yours, and your shaky moans and quickened breathing, a low tight sound escaping him every now and then. 

You lean forward, pressing your palm against one side of his neck as you mouth at the other. You drag your tongue over his pulse before sucking at the skin. A low, guttural sound leaves him, his grip on you tightening and his rhythm stuttering. You press your lips to his ear, teeth catching at his earlobe before you pant, “You feel so good inside me, so -ah, so big and - Fuck, Kylo, you’re gonna make me cum.” 

He moans, the sound low and gravely before his hand curls around your throat, pushing your head back against the wall as he thrusts even harder into you. He leans almost close enough to kiss you, nose bumping into yours, lips just barely hovering over yours as he applies just enough pressure to your throat to make your head spin.

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble talking like that,” he breathes, voice catching as your walls flutter around him, hooking your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady as everything in you pulls tight, muscles tensing and body arching into him.

“Good,” you manage through gritted teeth, biting down on your tongue as your thighs tense, squeezing against his hips, that knot inside you pulling tighter until you’re trembling against him. 

You try to keep your eyes open for as long as possible, but you can’t help the way they flutter closed, your head dropping forward as you cum around him, clinging to him as your body shakes through your aftershocks.

He presses you flush against the wall, pressing his face into your neck as he groans, fingers curling into your hips as he spills inside you. 

You hold one another that way for what feels like an eternity, rubbing circles over his shoulders, and smoothing your hands through his hair as he pants against your skin. 

He takes a deep breath, brushing his lips over your scar again before lifting his head and kissing you, pulling away long enough for a breath between each kiss. You move your fingers over his cheekbone, down the side of his face to press into his jaw as he pulls his head back, and you watch as his eyes shift from your lips to meet yours. 

Carefully he pulls out of you, setting you back down on your feet but keeping his arms around you until you seem steady. 

Then he turns, stepping back under the flow of water and rinsing himself off before getting out of the shower. You take a few steadying breaths, feeling like you’re caught in some kind of hypnotic fog before you decide to follow suit. You clean yourself up before turning off the water and reaching for your towel. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed shirtless and in lounge pants, his hair still damp and messy from being towel dried when you walk into the room. You slip into a pair of underwear and an oversized shirt before walking over to him. 

He leans back and watches as you stop between his knees, reaching out and taming his hair back with your fingers. His jaw tenses, eyes shifting restlessly over your face before his hands curl loosely around the backs of your legs, palms just barely skimming over your thighs.

“You look tired,” you whisper, in equal parts not wanting to disturb your silence, and not being able to stand it anymore.

He reaches up, taking your hands and enclosing them between his, watching the way yours seem to just disappear within his grasp, “When you wake up in the middle of the night, are those nightmares?”

“I guess so, I don’t even remember most of them once I’m awake,” you shrug. “But I also don’t try to. Do you remember yours?”

He pauses, and then nods, smoothing his thumbs over the outside of your wrists before letting you go.

He shifts up the bed and motions you to follow. 

So you do.

You rest your head on his chest, tracing patterns across his skin with your finger tips as he wraps strands of your hair around his, his other hand sliding under the sleeve of your shirt and curling into your skin. 

“Why did you choose to exile Rix?” He asks suddenly and the sound nearly startles you, your fingers halting against him. “I could have killed him then and there.”

“Don’t you already know why?” You ask, assuming surely he would have been able to figure that from your thoughts.

“Your mind has been ... undecipherable lately, like you’re thinking about too many things and nothing all at once,” his fingers brush over the side of your neck as they comb through your hair. “It’s like trying to wade through water.”

“That’s kind of how it’s been feeling for me too,” you sigh and just for a moment his hand stills against your scalp before going back to it’s idle movement. “Killing him then would have been too quick. He didn’t deserve a quick death.” 

A silence settles back between you as he processes your answer, untangling his hand from your hair to drape over your waist. You listen to his heart beat, listen to him breathe, steady and slow and soothing, combined with the warmth of him against you is enough to have you feeling heavy against him, eyelids fighting to droop shut. 

“No, he didn’t,” he whispers and it takes you a moment to connect his response to what you’d said.

You stare at your fingers, watching them rise and fall with his chest as he breathes and you adjust your head against his shoulder. 

“Why did you ask Hux for me?” He asks and you take a deep breath, chewing on the inside of your lip.

“I don’t remember doing it, but in the moment I was scared, and I just-” you swallow, wetting your lips with your tongue. “You were the first thing that came to mind.”

His fingers twitch, curling tighter into you before he makes a soft sound of acknowledgement.

“You should rest,” he says, fingers brushing over your shoulder, the hand on your waist pulling you closer.

“So should you,” you mumble and his chest jumps in what you assume is the closest thing you’ve ever gotten to a laugh. 


End file.
